The Hogwarts Strike Team
by Myricle
Summary: An older and more experienced Harry and Hermione return to their first year at Hogwarts. Their goals? Assassinate Death Eaters, destroy Horcruxes, and deal with Voldemort's hidden contingency plan... by any means necessary. And maybe they'll fix a few other things along the way.
1. Prologue: The Contingency Plan

**Prologue: The Contingency Plan  
><strong>

The sky roiled, black thunderheads forming and twisting, sending shocks of distant thunder across the land. Harry watched it for a few minutes, waiting for an impossible glimmer of sunlight. This scorched, turbulent sky was one of Voldemort's contingency plans, according to their best theory. Harry wondered if magic this powerful had ever been considered before. Most wizards would probably think twice about ruining the sky itself, even the Dark ones.

It was on this basis that he had agreed with Hermione's theory: that Voldemort, with his obsession with immortality, would never truly consider dying, even to spite his enemies. The contingency plans were more likely just there to ensure nobody would try to kill him. But why then, would he tell nobody about them? That was a question that he and Hermione were no closer to answering.

After all, the Dark Lord couldn't tell them anymore.

Harry remembered the relief after their final confrontation. After so many losses, so much destruction, his soul had been worn and battered. But he had persisted, and the Dark Lord had fallen in the Great Hall, surrounded by people who stood tall despite it all. People whose very existence was an insult to Voldemort's power. It was over.

The first contingency spell came into effect six months later. Such magic takes time to reach its full effect; time that they could have used to stop it if they had known. Poisoned water may not stop many wizards, who could purify their drinks with a flick of their wands, but Muggles had no way to stop it. The Ministry worked tirelessly to break the heavy series of curses that had suddenly appeared in Muggle water reservoirs. Harry himself had proposed the idea that this was the work of many different anti-Muggle agents working across the country. Much later, Hermione had said that she didn't blame him for clinging to that explanation, even as evidence piled up that the coordination was too perfect to be a group of people. It was easier than considering there existed magic that could affect an entire country.

The firestorms began a year and half later, two years after the death of Tom Riddle. Such a powerful and far-reaching piece of magic had taken a while to build up. Once again, had they known about it, they might have been able to stop it. As it was, the country went into a frenzy. There was no hiding this form of magic from the Muggles, not when entire neighbourhoods were burned away in a single day. The firestorms were fought when they were small enough. Notices were sent out that every witch and wizard living near a current firestorm were now legally obligated to fight it. With enough people working together, the storms could be broken, and a region would become less susceptible to further storms.

Harry remembered standing outside the Burrow along with Hermione and every member of the Weasley family, as well as the Lovegoods. More would have come, but there hadn't been time. Ottery St. Catchpole was already lost, and the storm was drifting towards the Burrow. They had raised their wands, shoulder to shoulder against the terrifying wave coming towards them, and brought it down.

Ron had left them that day. Most of the Weasleys had returned to the Burrow to protect each other, and he was no different. Hermione had tried as hard as she could to convince him to come, but he was adamant. They may have only lost one family member in the war, but each and every Weasley was determined not to lose another. In the end, Harry had set off with Hermione to do their own investigation into the storms.

It was another three months before they realised the poisoned water and the firestorms were linked. They were both studying as they travelled, sinking deeper and deeper into the older principles of magic in an attempt to understand these strange phenomena. Their research took them to the wasteland that once was a peaceful Scottish village, one of the more recent firestorm focus points. Hermione had conducted a Base ritual, drawing on ancient lines of magic that criss-crossed the land, and found something there she hadn't expected. The lines were frayed and wavering, having been knotted and then released too quickly. Only a protracted effort could safely unknot them, and Voldemort's death had been instantaneous.

At one of the water facilities, now closed down and warded by Ministry officials, Harry had been the one to see beyond the obvious. While curse-breakers had worked tirelessly to cleanse the water, the original problem remained. Another Base ritual revealed a thin, worn line that had been forcibly moved to pass beneath the facility. They had reeled at the discovery; such an act should be utterly impossible. They spent a few weeks tracing the line, marking it on a map, and soon discovered the truth. The line hadn't been _moved_, only bent, and the same went for thousands of other lines.

These strange currents of force beneath the land shifted naturally away from knotted lines, making them bend and warp. Through their continued study, Harry and Hermione realised that, through careful, mathematical precision, Tom Riddle must have created an unimaginable and terrible pattern beneath the country, placing knots where firestorms would one day develop in order to bend other lines until they passed through Muggle water reservoirs. It was like a great tapestry, and it had possibly been bound to Tom Riddle's life. Once he had died, all the threads starting coming loose.

The revelation had shocked them. Not only the depth of Voldemort's power, but the sheer scope of the plan. The United Kingdom was one big trap because of him. But the thing that kept Harry awake at night was that _nobody knew it was there._ In all the memories he and Dumbledore had explored, there had been no sign that Tom Riddle was creating plans like this. The Horcruxes were supposed to be his magnum opus; his greatest work of Dark magic. Why would he make contingency plans if he was convinced he was immortal?

Harry had begun learning Occlumency in private. He was self-taught, so it was difficult, but he needed more control over his mind. Hermione could focus on studying and researching ancient magic with no problems, but he had trouble concentrating as he worried about his friends. Closing off his emotions was going to be a necessity soon if they were going to keep working like this. It took several months, but they had a lot of time as they followed the lines and did their best to unknot them and shift them back into place. Hermione eventually found out, but rather than the scolding he expected, she joined him without hesitation. Harry supposed it was a bit insensitive to think she wasn't worrying about their friends as much as he was.

Four years had passed since the final death of Tom Riddle when the sky broke. Sunlight was no longer visible at any time of the day, though the constant, fast-moving clouds made it seem as though the sun was just a few seconds away. Hermione had cried when she realised the mistake they had made. The currents of magic are not only underground, but in the air as well, surrounding the planet like a net. Only when they flew as high as they could on broomsticks could they sense the upper layer, which had far fewer knots than the ground, yet still more than enough to cause such turmoil.

The problem was that the Base ritual they had been using to cleanse the United Kingdom of its ailments was very difficult to perform in the sky. It required several hours and complicated runes to be present during the casting. In the end, Harry had remembered his encounter with Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets, and simply drew the runes in the air. The thoroughly embarrassed look on Hermione's face gave him his first chuckle in quite some time.

But as Harry looked up at the sky, remembering their first few rituals among the clouds, he felt as though despite their efforts, they weren't making any difference. Many of the ground knots were beneath places that had already been destroyed by firestorms, and the poisoned water required than the entire line be straightened before all of the negative effects ceased. It was much the same in the sky, where hundreds more knots kept the storm clouds functioning without any visible reduction in strength.

Harry had noticed over the past month that Hermione was retreating into herself more and more frequently. His first thought was loneliness; they hadn't been able to visit the Weasleys in almost two years, though thankfully they had heard the Burrow was still okay. But whenever he tried to suggest that they pay Ron a visit, she shook her head, claiming they had bigger problems to worry about. Eventually, he got frustrated enough with her level of inaction that she was forced to stun him to make him stop shouting.

"I'm sorry I did that, Harry, but you weren't even intelligible anymore."

Harry sat up on the floor of the tent. Staying in hotels and inns was possible, but they might lose their place on the line and have to retrace it, so it was better to camp nearby. The line they were currently following would lead them somewhat near the Burrow. He had chosen it in the hopes it would get her perked up and active again. "Alright, I'm calm," he said through gritted teeth. She gave him a dubious look and turned back to her book. "But Hermione, we really do need to talk."

Suddenly, she snapped the book shut and turned to him, looking more intent than she had in days. "Yes, we do."

Harry was a little put-off by her sudden shift in behaviour. "Well… you've not exactly been working as hard as usual lately," he began, throwing caution to the wind and deciding to lay all his worries out there. "I thought you might be missing Ron, but you don't want to go see him. So can you just tell me what the problem is? Our work here is insanely important, and it's not like the Ministry is in a state to help us do it." He felt his voice getting a little forceful by the end, so he took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes pleadingly. "Hermione, we're the only ones who can stop this destruction."

"Yes, we are," she said matter-of-factly.

Harry blinked. "So… why are you slowing down? The sooner we unknot all of the lines, the more people we will save."

It was Hermione's turn to take a deep breath. "Harry," she said gently, "It's too late."

"What?" Harry was outraged. "You're just giving up?"

She raised her wand warningly. "Are you going to start shouting again?"

"I will if you don't have a bloody good explanation!"

"Of course I do," she replied calmly, patting a pile of notebooks on the couch beside her. "Harry, I've done some calculations. Based on our estimates for how many knots remain on the land and how long it has taken us to remove the ones we've found, there will be many more firestorms regardless of our actions. Eventually, one will strike the Ministry, and we will lose our centre of government. Remember, fighting the firestorms does stop them for a while, but as long as the knot remains, they will always return. The poisoned water will return as well, no matter how many times the curse-breakers cleanse the sources."

"What are you saying, then? That we should stop trying? Just curl up and die?" Harry struggled to keep his voice level.

"No. I'm saying we need more time. If we had gone to work immediately after Voldemort died, I still don't think we would have gotten them all in time to prevent this."

Harry sat up straight. "A Time-Turner! We could remove all of the knots within a single day!"

Hermione shook her head, but a little smile graced her lips. "Time-Turners have limits, Harry. They aren't designed for that kind of repetitive use. Not to mention, the Ministry's entire stock of Time-Turners was destroyed in our fifth year."

Feeling deflated, Harry shrugged. "How else can we get more time, then?"

A hint of wild excitement entered Hermione's eyes as she leaned forward. "I think I have a way," she said quietly.

Harry couldn't help the surge of hope in his chest. It made him realise he wasn't exactly expecting a happy ending after all of this. There was just too much damage already. "Let's hear it."

"We've spent the last couple of years immersed in Deep Magic, studying things that most people aren't even remotely aware of. The secret currents in the ground and sky aren't the only things down there." Her voice was hushed, and she was clearly restraining herself from blurting it out.

"You don't need to be dramatic. Just tell me," said Harry impatiently.

"Time, Harry. I found Time. The current we can never understand, the direction we will never comprehend." She looked a little manic now.

Harry motioned with his hands calmingly. "Alright, easy. Just tell me what your idea is."

She struggled within herself for a good thirty seconds. "You're not going to like it."

"Will it end up saving more lives than if we didn't do it?"

"It could." She bit her lip. "If we are _very_ clever about it."

"I think you've got the clever part covered," Harry said dryly.

Hermione gave a small smile, but she still looked nervous. "It… it would involve bringing Voldemort and his followers back to life."

"No."

"Hear me out!" Hermione raised her wand again.

"No, Hermione! What the hell are you thinking? Why would–"

"_Silencio!_" Hermione said forcefully, and the strength of the spell sent Harry stumbling backwards in complete silence. "You _will_ listen to me, Harry James Potter. Because I am going to do this with or without you, and I would very much prefer it to be 'with'."

Harry wanted badly to draw his own wand, but she had the jump on him and he wasn't about to start a duel with his best friend, no matter how ridiculous she was being. Instead he threw himself into an armchair and gestured at her.

"I'll pretend that was sign-language for 'please continue'." Hermione stood up and began to pace. "I know your patience is short with me right now, so I'll just say it. I think I have found a way for us to return to our first year at Hogwarts, but retain the knowledge we have now." She hesitated, then removed her spell.

"Why our first year? Why not the final year?" Harry realised he hadn't questioned whether it was even possible. Hermione was clever enough that he didn't insult her by asking.

"Because I think it can only be done by two people who have been together almost constantly for several years. For this to work, we would need to merge our souls with the time-stream."

"If you think I know what that means, you're sorely mistaken," Harry replied flatly, still a little annoyed at being silenced before.

"It means we would send our souls, everything that we are, into a place where our knowledge of the world fails. From there, we would navigate to the only landmark visible to us: the moment we first met." Hermione was patient, but her hands were fidgeting with her shirt.

"You're using general terms, Hermione. I need an actual explanation. 'Send our souls'? How do you _send_ a soul anywhere?"

Hermione sighed. "Entering the time-stream will destroy our physical forms. We're third-dimensional beings, Harry. We can't traverse the fourth. But our souls can, and they will recognise each other and search for the earliest moment they were together."

"How can you know that? Why wouldn't they go to the latest moment they were together?"

Smiling, Hermione showed him the book she had been reading, _The Metaphysical Constant: An examination of evidence supporting the force of Love._ "Because our souls want to spend as long as they can together. Oh, don't cringe like that, Harry, I'm being serious. I think Dumbledore knew a little about this, which is why he kept talking about Love being more powerful than anything else. Our souls crave companionship. Wherever they go after we die, you can bet that they won't be alone."

Harry found that rather comforting, though he already believed something of the sort. "How can we access the time-stream?"

"I've been working on that, but it'll go a lot faster once you're helping me. The equations are so abstract I can't concentrate on anything else." She scratched her neck sheepishly. "That's why I've been slowing you down, lately."

It was Harry's turn to get up and pace. He was silent for a time, and Hermione politely didn't interrupt. Finally, he stopped and turned to face her. "What about Ron?"

"Adding a third soul would mean I'd have to scrap everything I've done so far, and I think we're running out of time. There may be yet another trap waiting to spring, even more powerful than the broken sky."

Harry was surprised, and a little angry. "He's your boyfriend! I thought you loved him!"

"I thought I did too," she replied in a small voice. Harry didn't know what to say. It had taken seven years for them to admit they liked each other, he couldn't believe it was going to just vanish. She noticed his expression and looked down at the floor, avoiding his eyes. "I haven't seen him in two years, Harry. You can't expect everything to still be okay." When he didn't reply, her face became flushed and she glared at him. "I don't need you looking down on me! And – and you know what? I don't care!" She scrubbed at her eyes angrily. "It'll just make it easier to go through with this plan."

"You can't just cut off your loved ones, Hermione." Harry shook his head, sitting back in the armchair and putting his head in his hands.

"Yes, I can. I sent my parents away so they wouldn't get hurt when we started hunting Horcruxes. This is almost the same thing." She was making an effort to keep her voice down, but it was shaking regardless.

"It really isn't. You just want to justify leaving him behind." Harry's voice was low and dangerous. "Ron is the most loyal friend either of us have ever known. You want to badmouth him? You can go alone."

Hermione had a pained expression. "He left us during the hunt…"

"He came back," Harry replied simply. "And I hope you realise how he would feel if he heard you say that."

She looked even worse now, sinking to her knees. "We talked privately, two years ago. I asked him to come with us, told him we were going to find a way to stop the firestorms and fix it all. I told him I had ideas, that there were ways of finding answers. He looked at me like I was a different person. He told me, 'my entire family was almost killed, and you want to run off camping again?'" She sobbed as she spoke. "He said we were caught up trying to relive the glory of the Horcrux hunt, and that we were missing the big picture." She trailed off into quiet sniffles.

Harry felt his mouth moving, but no words came out. This was the first he'd heard of a recent argument between his friends. He had thought Ron decided to stay and Hermione eventually accepted his decision. A faint trickle of anger remained, mostly focused around the idea that Ron considered the Horcrux hunt in any way glorious, but he quashed it, bringing up his Occlumency shields and tucking away his capacity for emotional thought. Ron had said some things in an emotional argument; he probably didn't feel that way. There was no need to blame him.

Hermione looked up, and he knew she could sense his shields. She had gone above and beyond Occlumency alone, of course, and had ventured into Legilimency as well. Harry had refused, remembering how Snape had once violated his mental privacy repeatedly on orders from Dumbledore. He at least knew that method was terrible at teaching Occlumency, and found the self-taught way far more conducive to not freaking out.

Harry felt a feather-light pressure on his shields, like a hand resting softly against a chest plate. Hermione met his eyes worriedly as she wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks. She knew he didn't retreat behind his shields unless he was trying to calm down. He could keep them up forever, but he didn't like how cold he could be while doing it. "Harry?"

"I'm fine. The most important thing is that your plan will give us many years to unravel the knots safely, as well as possibly subvert Voldemort's plans and save the people we've lost."

"Y-yes… that was my opinion too." She went quiet, and he realised he was staring at her without blinking. Tentatively, he lowered his shields. Feeling returned to him, and he let out a long sigh. Hermione's gentle Legilimency was now no longer pressed against a barrier, and it slipped into his mind. She withdrew quickly, but not before she caught a glimpse of his thoughts. "Oh, Harry, you'll see Ginny again. It'll just take some time for her to become the woman you love again."

He nodded, not wanting to talk about it. "If we're really going through with this, why don't you tell me what you have so far?"

Months passed, each one packed to the brim with inaction. The wireless radio from the Horcrux hunt was still in the tent, but neither of them turned it on. After a few weeks where Hermione slowly introduced him to the problem and taught him what she had already figured out, he realised he was committed to his choice. They didn't move the camp around anymore, remaining above the line they had been following. Hermione charmed a nearby tree to watch for approaching danger and warn them of it, just in case a firestorm swept their way. Harry suggested leaving the United Kingdom entirely, since it was the only place affected by knots, but Hermione disagreed. Her plan involved taking advantage of the weakness in the currents of magic beneath the land.

"Voldemort used them as a final attack on anyone who managed to beat him, so now we'll use them to neuter the attack before it ever begins. By knotting them, he has frayed the boundaries between what is possible and what is not, and even though we don't know why he kept it secret or when he did it, we can still use them to our advantage." Harry could hear Hermione muttering to herself as she wrote in her journal.

"You can't take that with you," he said, looking up from the roll of parchment littered with equations and runes. She gave him a blank look, and he gestured at the journal.

"Oh, this." She set her quill aside and scratched her nose, leaving a little ink on there. "I've been practicing with a memory palace." At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated. "It's a sort of mnemonic device that lets me remember things with a high amount of precision. Obviously I can't take my journal with me, but I can remember the words on each page."

"Really? That's brilliant. Is it easier to learn than Occlumency?"

Hermione laughed softly. "Much. It's not magic, it's just thinking."

"Who says that's easy?" Harry certainly didn't enjoy thinking lately. He'd had to retreat behind his Occlumency shields just to keep himself from apparating to Ginny several times now. He knew if he saw her face again, he would be unable to follow through with the plan. Hermione seemed to realise this, because she kept a constant stream of work coming his way.

She was still clearly the most adept at the work, but Harry knew how to apply himself to a cause, and he was able to take care of the less complicated calculations. It helped that Arithmancy wasn't needed as much as he expected. Deep Magic was based on the innate rules of reality, which, while complex, came more naturally to him than simple numbers. Hermione had commented that they were a cross between simple non-magical physics and more abstract magical metaphysics, which did little to ease their burden.

The longer they worked, the more focused they became. It was an unspoken rule that they would not talk about the Burrow, or the people they loved. They would not look for news or devote any attention to fantasies of everything working out. The plan was the only way. Harry found himself in a rhythm, and days began to bleed into each other. He worked until he was too tired to concentrate, then slept until he wasn't. He ate mechanically, forcing the transfigured food into his mouth, not even tasting it.

Two years passed like this. It had been six and a half years since the death of Tom Riddle. Harry spent most of his days behind his Occlumency shields now. He couldn't deal with the pain anymore. Hermione coaxed him out at least once a week for a chat, but they both knew he was slipping. Hermione wasn't exactly in top form herself. She had cut her hair up to her ears so it wouldn't block her vision while working. Her eyes had bags under them, though Harry couldn't remember when they appeared. Her few makeup supplies sat forgotten under one of the beds. She now transfigured food with nutrients in mind, rather than flavour.

Every month, they would check each other over with medical spells. Other than muscle atrophy and eye strain, they managed to remain in decent health. Physically, at least. Hermione was better at pretending to be okay, but Harry had spent enough time with her to know the signs. If they didn't complete their work soon, they would waste away. Or descend into madness.

Hermione occasionally asked to see into his mind. He allowed it, of course; there were no secrets between them. He wanted to know if he was going insane, or if he just thought he was. She would reach inside, and he would watch her expression, waiting for the day she said 'enough.' But she never commented on what she saw in there, and Harry found that he eventually stopped caring. All that mattered was the work.

It was the middle of September when the tree started screaming.

Harry knocked over his ink bottle with a curse and drew his wand. Hermione did the same and they stumbled out of the tent, using legs that weren't used to walking anymore. In the dim light, Harry noticed how gaunt Hermione was. He was glad there were no mirrors in the tent. He expected to see the orange horizon that usually preceded a firestorm. Instead he saw a sight he never wanted to see again.

Black robed figures were crossing the field towards them. Hermione flicked her wand, and the tree went silent. As the people drew closer, he was able to make out their hoods, which held masks with snake-like eye slits. Harry's curse left his wand before he even realised he had aimed it. The Death Eaters scattered, one of them crumpling to the ground. A few spells shot wildly in the direction of the tent, but they were poorly aimed and didn't come close.

Hermione joined in a second later, catching another Death Eater in the legs with a stunning spell. Jets of green light shot towards them, and Harry threw himself to the side. Without thinking, he raised his Occlumency shields, finding peace in the lack of emotion. Rising to a crouch, he swiped his wand through the air. _Diffindo!_ Two of the Death Eaters ran several more steps before their torsos fell to the ground.

Harry felt Hermione's shocked gaze on him. "It was supposed to be over," he said calmly.

After a few moments, Hermione thrust her wand towards a tree where a Death Eater was taking cover, and watched it explode, spraying the area around it with foot-long splinters. The Death Eater did not get up.

Distantly, as they fought, Harry wondered if Hermione had sunk into her own Occlumency in order to kill. Would there be a locked, bloodstained door in her memory palace somewhere after this? As a curse passed inches above his head, he didn't waste any more thought on the subject. He tried to perform some of the dodging techniques he had learned in his six months of Auror training after defeating Voldemort, but his body was weak and uncoordinated, and he barely escaped a Blasting Curse that showered stones everywhere. Only his spells were still good, and it looked as though the same went for Hermione as well. She sent an arc of electricity through two Death Eaters, and nailed a third by making the ground beneath his feet crumble into a pit. She was the most creative duellist Harry had ever known.

Only two Death Eaters remained, and they were being very careful. Harry knew he could get one with a well-placed Killing Curse, but no matter how far behind his shields he went, he couldn't do it. It was the one spell that would forever be beyond him. Instead, he waited for a clear shot and thought _Imperio!_ The Death Eater froze mid-step, then spun and sent his remaining companion down in a spray of blood.

"We can interrogate that one," Hermione said, not an ounce of worry or horror in her voice. Definitely Occlumency.

Harry agreed, and brought his pet Death Eater over to the tent. The man snapped his own wand and threw the pieces on the ground before removing his mask. He had a weak chin and fat cheeks, and looked no older than seventeen. "He'll answer you truthfully."

"Who are you?" asked Hermione.

"Arthur Russell."

"Why did you attack us?"

"You attacked us."

"Were you planning to attack us?"

"Yes." He looked as though the word was dragged from his lips.

"Your master is dead and gone," Harry interrupted. "What do you gain from serving him?"

Russell jerked a little, fighting the curse, but Harry's will wasn't about to be broken by some lacklustre Death Eater wannabe. "We… don't really… serve anyone."

Harry inspected the mask properly and found it was an imitation, and poorly made at that. No wonder they were killed so easily, they couldn't even see properly. "You're pretending to be Death Eaters?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"World has… gone to shit… might as well h-have some fun."

Disgust registered somewhere beyond Harry's shields. He ignored it. "Are there more of you?"

"Everywhere."

"This is disturbing," Hermione said evenly. "Do you all dress like Death Eaters?"

"Some. People just give you what you want if they think you're for real."

"So you are just looters and bandits?"

"Y-yes."

"Have you ever killed someone?" Harry asked reasonably, once again compelling him to tell the truth.

"No."

"Do you have a family?"

"Dead in big fire from the sky."

"Are you well-trained? Are you good at any magic?"

"Got pulled out of school in year 3. Never really cared about learning."

"Well," Harry said, exchanging looks with Hermione. "Why don't you go dig graves for all of your friends there, and then yourself. If you see anyone else approaching, come and warn us." He didn't need to say the instructions out loud, but he did for Hermione's sake. The chubby Death Eater turned on the spot and marched back across the field towards the bodies.

Harry and Hermione returned to the tent after charming the tree once more. Harry returned to work, cleaning the spilled ink away with a flick of his wand. Hermione stood in the middle of the tent, her breathing becoming ragged. He waited quietly, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he worked. She looked over at him, and her expression made it clear she was no longer using Occlumency.

"Harry," she said shakily.

He raised his head. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Stop it, please."

"Stop what?"

"Occlumency! Stop it, Harry! You _have_ to feel!"

Against his sense of cold logic, Harry let his shields fade, letting the rush of emotion flow back into his mind. Anger, horror, and revulsion all shared a place in his mind. He swallowed and let his quill drop onto the parchment. He hated it, he hated the way the feelings crashed into him and made his hands shake.

Suddenly, he felt something press into his mind, and as he met Hermione's eyes, it grew sharper, probing deeper. He didn't say anything, letting her see whatever she wanted to see. She finally withdrew and sunk to the floor. He moved to join her, but stumbled on his trembling legs and fell at her feet. He sat up and wordlessly pulled her into a hug.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she sobbed. "I h-had to m-make sure…" She didn't elaborate on what she was making sure of, and he didn't want her to. His stomach was tied in more knots than the last revenge of Lord Voldemort.

Harry didn't reply. What could he say?

Their location must have been passed around, because more neo-Death Eaters came their way every few days, even with the protective spells they had placed around the area. Harry didn't use Occlumency at all in the next few fights. Both he and Hermione began every skirmish with Stunning Spells and Body-Bind Curses, but by the end they were using everything in their arsenal to stop them.

They even created some new spells to defend the tent more effectively. Harry, inspired by the memory of Dumbledore weaving a great ring of fire, decided to copy it, with a few changes. The ring was less defined; it was just a swirling rush of flames rather than a clear construct. It could also be directed in a certain direction, allowing him to scorch an entire group of trees to weed out the sneakier foes.

Hermione had created a spell that was meant to be non-lethal at first. It produced a quick succession of needle-thin red spikes that shot off towards their target. They were more-or-less stunners that could follow a moving enemy. But Harry had insisted on another version, just in case, that simply punched the spike through the target. Quick, relatively painless, and utterly effective.

Killing rapidly lost its mystique. Harry never felt good about it, but in the end, they had to put their own lives first, and a dead neo-Death Eater was one that wouldn't come back with reinforcements and get killed anyway. After the seventeenth raid, Hermione started agreeing with him. Most were just homeless looters trying to survive, and if a Death Eater costume got them a meal, all the better. But they didn't seem to understand the extreme effect their costumes had.

"You can't just dress like them, act like them, and expect to carry on with your life," said Harry as he siphoned the blood off his shirt. Things had gotten a little too close in the last fight. His fitness wasn't what it used to be. "When you put on those robes, you take everything that comes with it, including an early death." He jerked his finger towards Hermione. "Put that in your journal," he growled, and watched as she did as he asked.

The work had been slowed by the raids, but they were still making progress. Hermione estimated they were only six months away from completion. Her notebooks made several neat piles near the beds, and she had conjured a floating blackboard on which to write the main phases they would need to go through when the time came.

An owl arrived after a particularly nasty battle that had brought their defences down, making them plottable again by whatever guided the owls. It was Errol. They both looked at it for a full minute. It had a letter dangling from its talon. Hermione turned away. Harry gently picked Errol up, and took the owl outside. All that mattered was the work.

With three months to go, Harry felt excitement build in his chest. It was a strange, alien emotion these days, but it was electrifying to feel it again. He didn't need Hermione's estimates anymore, he could tell they were filling in the gaps. Soon they would need to relocate to one of the remaining knots. Only by using the frailty of the magic lines around those unnatural things could they have a hope of succeeding.

Hermione shared his desperate excitement. The knowledge that they may be able to undo their mistakes drove them to work harder and harder. Harry was good enough to help with the more complex equations now, and they tackled the final few problems with newfound alacrity. It seemed as though the reset button, the thing that would redeem them, was nearly a reality. Just like in their third year, when all hope was lost for Buckbeak and Sirius, only for Hermione to reveal a way out. He was close to her now, closer than he'd ever been, and she clearly felt the same. There was no romance or lust. There was no time for that nonsense. Their work, their great, unfathomable work, was nearly done.

"Harry, I think we should discuss what we are going to do immediately upon arrival," Hermione said suddenly, breaking the standard silence that existed between sleep and neo-Death Eater raids.

Harry sighed and put aside the book he was studying (_Sumerian Magic: An objective assessment of ancient magical societies_). "We already have a plan."

"No, we have several very broad objectives. But that doesn't matter, we can work that out once we're there. What I mean is what are we going to do _immediately_ upon arrival."

Harry thought for a moment. "We first met at the Sorting, didn't we?"

"Earlier, actually." When Harry just shrugged, unable to remember the details of that day as clearly as he once did, Hermione's hollow cheeks filled with rare colour. "I remember it perfectly."

"You do? Did you have the memory palace back then, too?"

She huffed, and for a moment she looked like her bossy old self. "I don't need a memory palace to remember the day I met my best friend."

This time Harry was the one to feel his face burn. "I know – I didn't mean…"

Waving a hand dismissively, she cut through his apology. "I was helping Neville look for his toad, Tom."

"Trevor," Harry said automatically, and they were both a little surprised.

"Yes, that's right, Trevor. I remember coming to your compartment on the train…"

The memory returned swiftly and Harry sat up straighter with a smile. His facial muscles ached forming the unfamiliar expression. "Ron was trying to turn Scabbers yellow." His smile was replaced by a scowl. "Pettigrew."

"I was waiting for you to remember that." She made a calming motion with her hand. "But remember we have to be careful until we have time to plan. If you just grab Scabbers and wring his neck, Ron will think you've gone insane."

Harry grudgingly agreed. "Would be worth it," he grumbled.

"No, it wouldn't," said Hermione patiently. "Dead, Pettigrew can't exonerate Sirius."

Harry agreed a lot less grudgingly with that in mind. "So I'm in the compartment with Ron when you come by. That's it, then? That's the moment?"

"I believe so, unless we've met somewhere else before that without either of our knowledge." She chewed her lip. "What dentist did you go to, growing up?"

"The school one. As if my aunt and uncle would pay for a good one."

"We probably haven't met before, then. Anyway, it doesn't matter. If we appear anywhere other than the compartment, just bide your time until we get to that stage. For example, if we once passed by each other in some shopping centre at the age of six, don't jump the gun and start hunting Horcruxes. We need to keep the sequence of events as similar to the original timeline as possible."

"Why? Won't it be better if we got to work as soon as possible, rather than going through the motions of school and homework?"

"_Because_, Harry, if the sequence of events plays out too differently, we lose the advantage of foresight. Now, I can't reasonably expect us both to do the exact same things we did the first time, and we will be making changes for the better, but for the most part, we need to just be kids."

Harry was silent for a time. The thought of not being able to get to work straight away was a little discomforting. Sirius would spend a couple more years in Azkaban if they didn't do anything drastic, and that just didn't feel right. He remembered Professor Quirrell, and briefly entertained a fantasy of defeating Voldemort once and for all in his first year. But that was impossible. Even if he somehow escaped the Trace and ditched school, he would still need to find and destroy all of the Horcruxes _and_ safely unravel every knot in the ground and sky, all within a single year.

With a heavy heart, he was forced to accept Hermione's logic. "Alright. So what are you going to do when you arrive at the compartment?"

"I'll ask to see that nonsense spell Ron was trying, and then go help look for Trevor." Hermione brushed her hair out of her eyes; it was growing back slowly. "I saw you both again a little later, if I recall correctly."

Harry nodded. "The Sorting."

Hermione reached across and swatted him on the head. "Still on the train, Harry! I remember seeing Malfoy running away with Crabbe and Goyle, so I came to investigate."

Smirking, Harry rubbed his head. "You were a bit nosy back then."

With the air of a dignified Queen ignoring the improper remarks of a peasant, Hermione continued. "I think I told you off… Oh! I went to speak with the driver before that! I remember now."

"Do you think hexing Malfoy would count as a drastic change?"

She rolled her eyes. "Try to resist the urge. How did you drive him away the first time?"

Harry scratched his chin. "I can't remember. I'll think of something." At her worried expression, Harry raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I'm not about to cut him and his friends to pieces. If wringing Pettigrew's neck would make Ron think I'm insane, killing three kids would make him think I'm bloody psychotic."

"You had better remember that. We both know what you're like when you get worked up."

Harry didn't appreciate the reminder. "What about Snape? He knows Legilimency. If he sees into either of our minds…"

"We're not killing Snape, Harry!" Hermione looked exasperated.

"I didn't say we should! I meant, what are we going to do about his Legilimency!" Harry felt his blood boiling. "Why do you think I just want to kill every problem that gets in our way? Death Eaters and Dark creatures, that's all I intend to kill, not just anyone who gets suspicious!"

"I – I didn't mean to imply that. I know you don't like killing, Harry, and neither do I. I just spoke without thinking." She bowed her head in apology, and Harry forgave her with an angry wave of his hand.

"What _are_ we going to do about Snape, then?" he asked, as much to change the subject as to get an answer.

"Well, your passive Occlumency is good enough to sense an intrusion and provide basic protection, so if he or anyone else tries to get in, just raise your defences. We'll both pretend to not know we're doing it. I've read about cases where children develop natural Occlumency in response to things that happen in their childhood."

"What will our reasons be, then?"

Hermione pursed her lips, thinking. "Mine will be that I felt I never had any privacy in my house, and subconsciously developed a 'private area' in my head that I could defend against all intrusions. It gives me peace and quiet in noisy places, and lets me focus on my work easily."

Harry was impressed. "Will that really work?"

"There have been stranger cases. Now, as for your story… your aunt and uncle were very unkind to you, so it's natural you would retreat into your mind to avoid the reality of your situation. I don't think anyone will question that; it would make them feel awkward and impolite."

"Remind me how I ever survived this long without you planning my every move?"

She grinned wearily. "Dumb luck."

The time came for them to relocate. After discussing their possible options, they opted for the knot nearest to King's Cross Station. Their souls would be travelling across years to the point where they first met, and it seemed right that they chose the shortest distance away in physical space as well. As it happened, the knot sat beneath a city square. While firestorms had torn apart some of the city, this place was untouched, meaning the knot hadn't broken free on its own yet.

They moved purposefully, setting up their tent and casting wards around it to keep Muggles from interfering as well as curious wizards. In the space of two minutes, the tent was secure and completely unnoticed in the middle of the square. Inside the tent, Hermione used her wand to dig a hole in the ground about as large as a car and as deep as a swimming pool.

"Intersection point established," she said, smartly ticking off an item on the floating blackboard. A low rumble filled their ears. They exchanged worried glances, and Harry immediately went about examining the knot with a sensory spell Hermione had developed.

"It's still together, but it's fraying quickly. I think it's going to unravel on its own within the hour."

Hermione looked panicked. "An hour? That's cutting it awfully close. Should we abort and find a more stable knot?"

Harry chewed his lip. "No. The less stable it is, the more likely we'll succeed, right?"

She didn't answer, instead drawing her wand and carving runes into the ground around the hole. Harry rifled through some notes and drew his wand as well. "_Wussuru anzillu… taru isten arammu.. wussuru anzillu…_" he murmured. Some of the runes began to glow with black light.

Hermione drew as fast as she dared as the rumbling grew louder. A firestorm was brewing, and the period of time in which they could escape unharmed was shrinking rapidly. Apparition didn't always work properly around a firestorm due to the rampant magical energy. Something crackled in the pit, and it suddenly seemed a lot darker, though the light remained the same. Harry felt like he could see something rushing in the darkness below out of the corner of his eye.

The rumbling became a constant reminder that time was running out. There were no pauses anymore, just a constant, low roar. People were screaming outside the tent. The signs of an impending firestorm were most likely taught to the general population, though the Muggles probably called it something different. It sounded as though the wind and the earth were conspiring to crush everything between them.

Harry's wand shook as he incanted. The words weren't Latin like most spells; they were based on an even older language Harry hadn't heard of before this. Runes were lighting up as soon as Hermione drew them now, and she raced to complete the circle around the pit. Bright blue flickers of light now shot out of the pit every few seconds, and Harry was almost certain if he leaned over the edge he would see an underground river splashing against the rocks, though he knew that was not the case.

The noise reached a fever pitch as Hermione drew the final rune, and Harry knew they were living their final seconds in this world, one way or another. Hermione looked at him from the other side of the pit, which was now making more noise than the impending firestorm. The sound of rushing waves pounded against their eardrums. Harry stopped chanting and held up three fingers.

Hermione was crying, but she nodded, even as strange wind sent her hair flying about. Harry realised he was weeping as well. He now showed two fingers. Bright orange light shone through the tent walls, telling them the firestorm had begun. He dropped the final finger and stepped over the runes as Hermione did the same. The tent was ripped apart around them, burning pieces of fabric floating on the unceasing wind blasting out of the pit.

Hermione jumped, and Harry leapt to meet her. The black-and-blue waves of nothingness crashed against the walls of the pit beneath them, unable to splash out of it. But it didn't matter, because they were dropping, their arms around each other, screaming and crying as Time swallowed them whole.

Harry felt _something_ against him, an immense, unfathomable pressure. He knew, distantly, that this feeling was just his brain's way of approximating what was happening, but he couldn't help but try and struggle against the crushing tide. He could see nothing but blackness, and knew there was no light for his cornea to refract.

Hermione was in his arms, a strange human-shaped shield against the buffeting winds that mixed and twisted along with the tide. She clung to him as well, and her face was against his. He could feel her mouth open in a silent scream, and knew there was no air through which sound waves could propagate.

He felt something on the soles of his feet. His skin was being pulled away by the wind and current. In his mind's eye, he could see chunks of flesh breaking away and disappearing into the darkness. The feeling crept up his legs, and he knew his feet were completely gone, even the bone. It may have taken a split second or a thousand years, but Harry had no way to know. The idea of 'seconds' and 'years' suddenly seemed alien and unnatural. It just _was_.

His body was ripped away from him, piece by piece, inch by inch. His legs were gone, along with his hips. There was no pain, and he knew there was no space through which his nervous system could send electric signals to his brain. He was frozen, clinging to Hermione as the last of his stomach was ripped free and sent into the roiling nothingness.

Harry was unable to think. The feeling had reached his head suddenly, and he somehow knew his arms were gone. His face was pressed against Hermione's, and he could feel her skin fracture and slip away along with his own. Piece by piece, their skulls and brains were deconstructed and scattered to the winds of Time.

And then…

Awareness.

He was standing in an endless, watery field of grey. He had no clothes on, but he was holding his wand. That seemed like he should find it odd, but Harry couldn't think why. Why shouldn't he have his wand? The water was up to his ankles, and it moved in a very strange way. There were many different currents, each going different speeds. Some would occasionally flow in the reverse direction, but they seemed pretty rare. Harry realised he was standing in quite a wide current, the widest he could see. It slowly flowed around his legs in the direction behind him. Ahead of him, his current narrowed as it stretched away. He wondered what was in that direction.

A woman suddenly stepped out of his body, slowly walking against the current. She had silvery skin, and her long, bushy hair wafted in the air on an invisible breeze. She had no clothes on, either, but that didn't seem strange. She had a wand too, so he knew she was like him. He noticed his hands were also pale and shiny, just like hers. The woman looked back at him and smiled. He returned it happily. When she gestured for him to follow, he obeyed without thinking.

The woman seemed so familiar, and he liked being close to her. When he caught up, he noticed they couldn't touch each other; they would occupy the same space while walking. That felt right; he wanted to be as close to this woman as possible, and it seemed she felt the same way. Having company made the slow walk against the current very enjoyable. Time was non-existent here, but he still enjoyed every non-second he spent with her.

They walked silently, peacefully, up the current. Harry wasn't surprised to see their destination in the distance ahead. He noticed a little bit of their current was going backwards, but it was very small, and they soon left it behind. Their destination approached. Every step towards it made Harry happy. Somehow, he knew their goal would result in he and the woman continuing to be together, and that was a good feeling.

The current became very narrow, to the point where if they hadn't been occupying the same space, they would have needed to begin doing so now. There was a cheerful pinprick of light ahead, where the current narrowed to a point. Harry was careful not to put a foot outside of their own current; he knew that wasn't right.

The pinprick looked so welcoming, and it grew brighter the closer they got. When they were standing over it, at the narrowest part of the current, Harry reached for it without thinking, and the woman did the same, their hands closing around it simultaneously. Harry felt overwhelming happiness that they had reached their goal together, and would spend a long time with each other as a result. As the light grew to blinding, and the current rose up to absorb them, he couldn't imagine anything he wanted more.

The work was done.

**A/N**

**Here we go! Who doesn't like a good old do-over fic?**


	2. Chapter 1: Sorting Hats and Rumour Mills

**Chapter 1: Sorting Hats and Rumour Mills**

The compartment door was open, and a girl in Hogwarts robes stood beside a round-faced boy who looked very anxious. The girl stood there for a few seconds, before saying in a breathless voice, "We're looking for a toad – N-Neville's lost his toad…" her face was white, and she was trembling a bit.

Harry felt a million waves of relief crash down on him at the same time, and he realised he was shaking as much as the girl. His mind was awhirl, he couldn't pin down any single thought, and the girl was gripping the compartment door as though it was all that was keeping her upright. Out of desperation, he somehow made himself calm. There seemed to be shields of some kind in his mind that he could raise or lower at will.

His thoughts stopped racing, and ordered themselves neatly for his perusal. So, he was eleven years old again. The plan had worked. He would need to remain rational and not behave oddly. Hermione was struggling to accept where they were; _who_ they were. He could see that now. Inwardly, he prayed she would get a hold of herself. In the second it took for him to process those thoughts, it seemed she did the same. Her face smoothed, she let go of the door, and raised her chin.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, looking at Hermione as though she was a strange animal that had wandered onto the train.

"Are you doing magic?" She looked at Ron's wand, raised over Scabbers. "What spell?" She stepped inside and sat down next to Harry, looking expectantly at Ron. Harry couldn't take his eyes off her. He felt the urge to hug her slam against his shields, and wrestled to keep them under control. They made it! They actually made it!

Ron looked a little wary of the intrusion, frowning at Hermione. "My brother George gave it to me. It's supposed to turn Scabbers yellow."

"Show me."

"Er," Ron cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." Scabbers remained asleep on his lap.

"That doesn't sound like a real spell. I think your brother tricked you."

Harry knew for certain she didn't say that last time. In fact, this entire exchange seemed like a distorted version of déjà vu. He tried to tell her this with a glance, but she was avoiding his eyes.

"That git," Ron said glumly, stuffing his wand away in his trunk.

"My name is Hermione Granger, by the way. It's nice to meet you both." She held a hand out to Ron, who shook it dubiously.

"Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter," said Harry, taking her hand in turn. Their eyes met, and suddenly she was boring a hole into him with her gaze. On impulse, he dropped his Occlumency shields, and immediately felt her Legilimency penetrate his mind. He tried to summon all of the relief, happiness, and love he could find and make it as visible as possible. If words weren't available, thoughts would have to do.

Her eyes watered and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. She felt the same. "Are you really?" she said, clearly trying to regain her former haughtiness. "I know all about you."

"Er, really?" Harry had the surreal feeling he was acting the part for a stage show he'd studied years ago, trying to remember his lines.

"You're in a lot of books. Anyway, we'd best go look for Neville's toad." She pulled Neville away, leaving the two boys alone.

"What a weird one. Did you see her face after she opened the door? I thought she was about to faint or throw up or something."

"Yeah…" Harry thought desperately for something more to say, but Ron had already moved on.

They talked about Quidditch for a while, and Harry asked as many questions as he could so he would have an excuse for his knowledge. Ron was in the middle of listing the professional teams when an uncomfortably familiar trio of faces appeared in the doorway. Draco Malfoy and his two cronies blocked any view of the hallway as they leered into the compartment.

"Is it true?" he said, eyes intent on Harry with a slight smile to his lips. "They're saying Harry Potter's in this compartment. It's you, is it?"

"Yeah," said Harry. He was struggling to think of a way to avoid antagonising Malfoy straight away.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," said Malfoy, and then, like an afterthought, "This is Crabbe and Goyle."

Ron sniggered softly. Malfoy's eyes darted to him. "Something funny, Weasley? Yes, I know who _you_ are. Can't mistake the red hair, freckles, and faint stench of manure. Isn't your house built on a pig sty?"

Ron's ears burned bright red and he stood up angrily. Harry joined him without thinking. Malfoy looked between them with an amused smirk. "I understand you might think it's polite to stick up for the first wizard you've ever met," he told Harry with a roll of his eyes that indicated the title of 'wizard' was a bit of a stretch. "But manners are wasted on wizards who are worth less than the dirt on your shoe."

"I absolutely agree," said Harry. "Sod off." _So much for not antagonising him._

Malfoy's face went white with anger. "You'd better watch your tongue, Potter. A little politeness might stop you from joining your parents–"

"Politeness?" interrupted Harry. "You barge into our compartment with these shaved gorillas, insult my friend's family, and now you want to lecture me about being polite?"

A tinge of pink crossed Malfoy's cheekbones. "You should be more careful when choosing friends, Potter. Bad decisions can come back to bite you." He stepped out of the compartment before looking back at Harry. "If you want to make friends that can actually get you places, come find me."

"Thanks, I'll think it over," said Harry sweetly as he closed the door.

He sat back down along with Ron, whose face was still bright red. After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat. "You can go with him, y'know."

"What?" said Harry.

Ron shrugged casually, but he was clearly a little bothered by the encounter. "You don't have to stay just 'cause of me. Dad talks about how the rich and powerful families make alliances and stuff." He trailed off at the end.

Harry stared at him for a moment. "Ron, I don't want to make an 'alliance' with someone who treats friendships like business opportunities." He laughed. "And as for 'rich and powerful', I didn't know I _had_ any wizard money until a few days ago. Look," he shook his sleeve, which was rolled up to accommodate his skinny arms, "All of my clothes used to be my cousins."

"Really?" Ron grinned. "Most of my stuff came from my older brothers. Even my wand used to be Charlie's – he's a dragon handler over in Romania." He pulled the battered wand out of his trunk again. Harry spotted the unicorn hair poking out the tip.

"Wow, a dragon handler?!" Harry had no trouble pretending to be excited. It was sinking in that he really was back in his first year, about to see all of his mates again – once he befriended them again, of course.

"Yep," Ron said proudly. "And my other brother Bill is a Curse Breaker in Egypt."

"Your family sounds brilliant," grinned Harry.

Just then, Hermione pulled open the door and came in once more. "I passed three angry boys on the way here, I hope you two weren't starting fights."

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "They're the ones who barged in here like shaved gorillas, right Harry?"

"Yeah, the pale one must have been their trainer," said Harry. The boys laughed as Hermione did a very good impression of a child pretending to be above such comments.

"Whatever you were doing, you should be careful. You don't want to get detention before even getting sorted. Also, I just spoke to the driver and he said we're nearly there, so you'd better put your robes on." Hermione paused after speaking, her eyes closed. Harry realised she was trying to remember if she said anything else the first time.

Noticing Ron giving her a very weird look, Harry quickly spoke up. "D'you mind leaving while we get changed?"

"Oh – right, that's it – um, goodbye." And with a rush of bushy hair, she was gone.

"Blimey," muttered Ron, closing the compartment door.

They packed their jackets away and donned their robes. Harry moved his wand to his right robe pocket, ready to grab. He wasn't intending to do anything crazy, but he felt safer knowing he could draw it in a moment. His mind raced: memories of midnight neo-Death Eater attacks, of scrambling in the dark, throwing curse after curse; telling Hermione to stay inside, using a Disillusionment Charm to blend into the trees, running, constantly moving, hunting through the trees, snake-slit masks glinting in the moonlight–

"All right there, Harry?" Hagrid's voice boomed over the crowd of students exiting the train.

Harry tried to grin, but as they followed Hagrid down to the black lake, he felt a great pit in his stomach. The enormity of the task ahead seemed to dwarf the castle on the mountain. What was he thinking? How could they possibly juggle everything along with school? There were hundreds of knots all over the country, and half that in the sky, and the Horcruxes were all still hidden and protected and all of the Death Eaters were still alive and – Hermione's hand closed around his for a brief moment. He hadn't realised she was in his mind, such was his anxiety. He felt her calming presence in his thoughts, and immediately felt some of the weight lift from his chest.

He wasn't alone. Hermione was with him. _I'm not alone._

It was a silly, childish thought, but so very real. Hermione's Legilimency retreated now that he had calmed down. Her hand vanished into the crowd without a single soul noticing. Harry took a deep breath and chose a boat. Hermione and Neville joined them silently, just like the first time.

He had never forgotten his first glimpse of Hogwarts, and he was glad nothing had changed. It still towered above everything, ancient and silent, but covered with pinpricks of warmth. He felt the absurd urge to weep, seeing the castle again. No matter the dangers in their future, Harry knew he would always find friends behind these walls.

The trip across the glassy lake and up into the castle felt like a dream. The night air was cold, but he'd never felt more comforted. They had time. They could do this. While Ron's face was pale with nervousness and the other first-years were stumbling over their robes, Harry stood tall, grinning broadly. Hermione nudged him. "You don't look very nervous," she said in the softest whisper, her lips barely moving. Harry stifled his grin and tried to copy Ron's expression and posture.

The Great Hall was silent as they were herded down the centre. Harry remembered how daunting it had been to have every eye on him, but he was so happy to be back that it didn't even faze him this time. These were his people, after all. He remembered even more clearly how Voldemort had once asked them to hand him over. All of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had stood to defend him, along with the majority of Ravenclaw. He held no love for Slytherin, but knew there were good people among them too, even if he hadn't known them personally.

The Sorting Hat sung its ridiculous song. Harry clapped along with the rest, but his heart was in his mouth. He exchanged terrified glances with Hermione. The Sorting Hat would go through their minds to see what house to place them in; it would see everything! As Harry watched each student get sorted, he felt his pulse quicken and sweat broke out on his forehead.

_No, no no, there must be a way to keep it out…_

All he had was Occlumency, but that was for keeping Legilimens out, not mind-reading hats.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

There had to be a way! The hat would betray them to Dumbledore, he knew it would! Hermione was trembling slightly nearby. He wanted to talk to her, to come up with some kind of plan, but time was running out and they would get scolded for talking – but who cares about that? Harry nudged her arm but she shook her head. She looked like she was concentrating extremely hard.

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

_NO NO NO NO_

Harry's hand twitched towards his wand, but he forced it still. He couldn't Apparate inside Hogwarts, obviously, and with all of the teachers watching on the staff table only a few feet away, he wouldn't get far if he tried to run. Hermione must have sensed his thoughts, because she broke from her trance to give him a firm, if harrowed look.

"Granger, Hermione!"

She walked forward calmly and took a seat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head. Her face betrayed no expression, and Harry wondered if her Occlumency shields were up. A few seconds passed, during which Harry had to scrub away a rogue sweat drop that had fallen into his eyelashes – but, miraculously…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table roared happily as Hermione went over to them. Harry sighed with relief; clearly Occlumency _did_ keep the Hat out. But then why was she still looking so terrified? Harry slowed his breathing and raised his Occlumency shields. He just had to stay calm.

Neville was sorted, and Malfoy in due turn, and as the other first-years vanished from his side, Harry was still calm. Outside the shields, terror threatened to overwhelm him. If it all came crashing down now, before he could even destroy a single Horcrux or unravel a single knot, it would have all been wasted… he would have been better to stay with Ginny and Ron, and face what came.

The last few kids were shuffling their feet, and now…

"Potter, Harry!"

Whispers crossed the room, and people craned around their friends to get a better look at him. Harry sat on the seat, feeling numb, clinging to his shields with every ounce of his being. The hat was placed on his head. It fell down to cover his eyes, mercifully shielding him from the hall full of faces. The last thing he saw was Hermione's white face, gripping the edge of the table in fear.

Silence.

"I've never seen _this_ before," the Hat said aloud in a bewildered voice, and the hall erupted into chatting; the Sorting Hat didn't deviate like that. McGonagall called for silence, and a hushed quiet descended far faster than Harry would have expected. He knew they were waiting to see if the Hat would elaborate or say something else, but it was quiet.

Harry strained to hold his shields up, even as his hands shook in his lap. Minutes passed. The longest it had taken the Hat so far was a little over a minute, but this… a quarter of an hour passed in complete stillness. Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. Maybe if he got his wand, he could Obliviate the Hat somehow…

"That wouldn't work, you know," said a small voice in his ear. Harry was so surprised that he let out a gasp, which was repeated around the hall. Students began to whisper again, albeit very softly. He wondered what kind of rumours would come out of this, and how much they would affect the plan. Too much attention could ruin everything.

"I quite agree," the Hat said, still speaking only to Harry.

_You agree?_

"Yes, quite. Hmm… the Granger girl is in on this too? I did not sense it in her, but then, she had a very organised mind, and there was no need to dig too deep…"

_Are you going to betray us?_

"Hmm… I think not."

_Why?_

"I do not often comment on the events of the wizarding world, but if I must say, that place you came from looked most disagreeable. I would prefer if such a fate was avoided."

_Are you going to tell Dumbledore?_

"I will not make any promises… but I think, should you and Granger fall, I will reveal your plans to the Headmaster so he can finish the job. If he survives this time, of course." There was no trace of humour in the voice, just stating the facts.

Harry felt relief on the outside of his shields. He kept them up, regardless of their effectiveness, just to keep himself from collapsing.

_Good. Voldemort had his contingency plan, we'll have ours._

"Let us hope neither come into play, this time," the Hat whispered fearfully.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it roared aloud, startling everyone. McGonagall took the hat, and Harry stood on legs that felt like jelly, listening to the Gryffindor table cheer and stomp their feet in approval, or perhaps in impatience for food.

He sat down, hearing the shouts and congratulations as though from down a long tunnel. Hermione could probably feel he was keeping it together through Occlumency alone. Her eyes were filled with questions, but he was in no state to answer them, even mentally. The sorting continued, and Harry spent the last couple of names pulling himself together.

He grinned automatically when Ron was sorted and fell into the seat beside him. Ron's brothers congratulated him, and soon after, the feast began. Harry managed to eat a little. It helped that he was actually starving; he couldn't remember when the last time he had eaten was.

There was a great scraping of plates after a while, and suddenly dessert appeared before them, every treat imaginable. Harry loved treacle tart, but he only picked at his plate. There was too much on his mind to just relax and enjoy the meal. He desperately wanted to talk to Hermione, but she was chatting with Percy about their classes. Did that happen the first time? It was so hard to remember…

Without realising it, his eyes drifted over the staff table, passing Dumbledore, who was talking quietly with McGonagall. Harry thought he might have seen twinkling blue eyes flicker in his direction, but he wasn't sure. As his gaze continued, he was met with a very sharp reminder. Professor Quirrell was talking to Snape. Now _that_ he remembered. His scar burnt, but the sensation was outside of his shields, so he didn't react.

_I could go up there right now and expose Voldemort to the entire school._

He didn't need a glance from Hermione to know it would be a terrible idea. But that didn't stop him thinking about it for a while.

After dinner and the school song (which Harry didn't particularly care for), the students were sent to bed. Percy Weasley led Harry and the other first-years up to Gryffindor Tower and past the Fat Lady. The common-room was as comforting as ever, and Harry was able to finally let his shields down. He stumbled a bit as his emotions returned.

Hermione's Legilimency was there the second the shields were down, having a look at his memories, at what the Sorting Hat said. He paused on his way over to the spiral staircase leading up to the boy's dormitory. She was standing at the girl's staircase, looking over at him and biting her lip.

_Common-room in twenty minutes._

He started. That wasn't his thought. Hermione was still looking at him, unblinking.

_No way…_

She smirked.

"Come along, Granger, you can ogle the Boy Who Lived tomorrow," said a female Prefect, ushering Hermione up the staircase.

A moment later, Percy pulled Harry along in much the same fashion, and soon he was being re-introduced to his beloved four-poster bed. They changed into their pyjamas, and Ron mumbled something about food before flopping onto his bed. The other boys were much the same. Harry sat on the edge of his bed, waiting.

With his shields down, he could feel the aftermath of his near-breakdown in the hall. It made him shivery and angry. He couldn't believe he had such an embarrassing reaction to a relatively minor situation. Even if the Hat had betrayed him to the whole school, nobody would suddenly decide to murder him. His life, and the lives of his friends, had not been in danger at any point. So why was he cracking up like a teenager on a first date?

Harry looked at his hands as though seeing them for the first time. He was _tiny_. He hadn't felt this small when he was eleven, but the proof was in front of him. Maybe that was the problem. He was handling mature problems while in an immature body. Perhaps there was something… his ability to manage the physical effects of stress had been diminished, maybe?

Or maybe, he thought hesitantly, he was just having trouble adapting to a complex situation. There could be side-effects unknown to him and Hermione – something related to the destruction of their physical forms in those terrible waves driven by unceasing winds… He clutched at his head and rubbed his temples.

He couldn't wait any longer, so he quietly padded across the carpet and slipped out of the dormitory. Voices came from the common-room below, so he stopped short of making himself visible.

"–out like a light," said Percy Weasley.

"Mine too," Harry recognised the female Prefect's voice. "Probably the nicest first-years I've seen since I got my badge."

"Shall we go inform Professor McGonagall?"

The girl's reply was cut off abruptly, and the sound of the portrait closing gave Harry the courage to peek around the last bend in the staircase. The common-room was empty, and the fire was burning low. Harry took a few cautious steps, then heard the sound of socks shuffling on carpet. He spun around just as Hermione threw her arms around him.

He hugged her back just as hard, even as she delved into his mind again. They broke apart and sat close to each other on the couch in front of the fire.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said miserably. "I wish I could have reassured you or something, but everyone was watching. I saw you maintaining your shields even after being sorted, so I knew you were hurting on the inside."

Harry shook his head, feeling more foolish than ever. "I overreacted. It felt like I was on the Auror training course again, having my mind and body assaulted at once. I almost reached for my wand, to tell the truth."

"You need a form of relaxation and control other than Occlumency," Hermione said matter-of-factly, resting her head on his shoulder. The original eleven year old Harry would have probably gotten angry at being comforted in such a way, but this one meekly accepted it.

Hermione's chest shook in a silent chuckle. "There's nothing meek about you Harry, trust me."

Harry quietly enjoyed the closeness and the dying heat of the fire. "How did you fool the Hat?"

"Memory palace. I spent the time before my name was called doing some major adjustments. I crafted a whole hallway lined with books that each told some of my earlier memories, before the day I was sorted. The hallway was closed off from the rest of the palace, and I made sure not to waver in my focus. Occlumency helped there. The Hat saw only what I wanted it to see."

"Bloody hell," Harry said, impressed. "How can it see through Occlumency like it's not there, but get tricked by a non-magic memory technique?"

"According to your memories, it said it didn't need to dig too deep. If it had really tried, maybe it could have broken into the main room or something. But the fact is, it didn't."

"I wish I'd learned the technique from you. This almost went pear-shaped before we even got started."

"I'll teach you, then. It's not difficult. I think you should also learn to meditate until you're good enough to do it while moving and working. It would help you stay calm without resorting to Occlumency." Hermione snuggled closer, and Harry had to fight the instinct to put his arm around her.

_What the hell are you doing?! She's with Ron!_

"The Ron I love is beyond my reach forever," Hermione said quietly. "I'm sorry, Harry. I wasn't trying to freak you out. I just… wanted to be closer."

"I understand," Harry replied, and he really did. Traversing the current of Time had a way of bringing people together.

The port-hole opened suddenly, and the two Prefects entered, talking quietly. They hadn't noticed the wide-eyed eleven year olds staring at them. Hermione suddenly pressed her lips against Harry's.

_Trust me._ Her thought, in Harry's mind. Harry didn't pull away.

The conversation stopped mid-sentence, and the girl prefect whistled, sounding a little impressed. "I'll hand it to you Granger, you work fast." Harry and Hermione broke away, trying to look startled. It wasn't hard. "But you're also supposed to be in bed, so let's move it, heartbreaker." She jabbed a finger towards the girl's dormitory, and Hermione leapt off the couch and ran up the stairs, her face bright red. The prefect went to follow her, shaking her head. "I didn't kiss a boy until last year. Just _what_ are they teaching kids these days?"

Percy looked at Harry, seemingly so appalled he was struggling to form words. Harry sidled towards the boy's dormitory. "I'll, uh, just go to bed." Percy's eyes followed him until he was out of sight.

Rumours could easily be classed as Hogwarts' number one export. Only two people knew Harry Potter had kissed Hermione Granger on their first night, so naturally, everyone in Gryffindor knew by the time breakfast was over, and everyone in the school knew by lunch.

For his part, Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. There were two warring parts of his mind: one, an eleven-year-old who didn't really care about girls yet, and the other, a twenty-four-year-old who was wracked by guilt for kissing his best friend's girlfriend. He constantly tortured himself with the memory of the locket Horcrux, where Ron's greatest fears were revealed. Harry had always known, in the corner of his mind, that he was overshadowing Ron, if unintentionally, and it had taken a long time for Ron to move past it. He could almost see the betrayed look in his best friend's eyes.

Ron's actual reaction was a little different. They were, after all, eleven, and he didn't even like Hermione as a friend yet. His ears would just go red from the embarrassment of talking about kissing every time the subject was brought up in the conversations around them.

But that wasn't the main reason people stared at him wherever he went. Harry had almost forgotten how much attention he had gotten for simply existing; all the kissing rumours did was exacerbate things. The familiar whispers followed him across the school, "Did you see his face?" "Did you see his scar?" He just ignored them. There had been far worse whispers in his second year, when the school thought he was the Heir of Slytherin.

Hermione sat with him and Ron at meal times, but they barely spoke a word, with all the eyes on them. Of course, Hermione didn't need to speak out loud when she was around Harry.

_I'm really sorry about all this extra attention, Harry. I didn't think it through; I was just trying to make us look innocent in front of the prefects._

He nodded as he chewed his mashed potatoes. There was a hint of garlic in there, which he loved. When she still looked a little guilty, he tried to fill his mind with calm, understanding thoughts. She wore a relieved smile as she ate.

The classes were interesting, if basic. Harry was sitting in his first Transfiguration class of term, wondering if he should get it first try, or not get it at all. Ron was muttering beside him; his matchstick had grown little feet and kept dodging his wand. Hermione looked to be having the same internal quandary as Harry was, so he decided to wait for her opinion.

She gave him a little smile to say she appreciated his trust in her, and sent her instructions. _I think we should do it right. It's easier to pretend to be naturally talented than to hide our skill constantly. We just have to be careful not to go beyond our year level, at least for now._

Harry didn't reply, instead waving his wand, turning his matchstick into a perfect needle.

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "How'd you do that?"

"Language, Mister Weasley." Professor McGonagall stalked over to their table, looking every bit the cat as she did when she was _actually_ a cat. Harry heard Hermione snigger a little, then cover it with a cough. It was easy to forget she was often watching his thoughts when they were near each other. McGonagall picked up his needle and inspected it with a raised eyebrow. "This is… very fine work, Potter. I didn't expect anyone to get it completely right in the first lesson. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Harry shared a grin with Ron – they had both decided that they wanted the House Cup, if only to spite Malfoy. But when Harry went to thank McGonagall, he found her attention occupied with Hermione. "Did I do it right, Professor?" asked Hermione eagerly, sounding every bit the overachiever.

"Yes…" McGonagall examined Hermione's needle closely, her other eyebrow rising. "Well done, Granger. Another ten points to Gryffindor." Hermione beamed. Ron started stabbing at his matchstick, muttering the incantation with a different inflection each time. By the end of the class, all he'd accomplished was making his matchstick seek asylum on Seamus Finnigan's desk.

Ron was in a foul mood as they walked to their lunch break, and Harry doubted that Hermione's presence was helping. They already knew Ron had felt overshadowed by his brothers, and now his friends were doing it too. Hermione must have picked up on his thoughts, as she excused herself to go study in the library.

As a peacemaking gesture, Harry asked Ron to teach him how to play wizard chess. Beating Harry to a pulp several times in a row did wonders for his mood, and he was whistling as they packed up the pieces.

On Friday, Harry received the note from Hagrid asking him to come and visit at three. Harry sent Hedwig back with his reply (_Sure, see you then_) and was in a pretty good mood until he realised his first potions class was today. Part of him was excited at being able to answer Snape's unfair pop quiz that had made him hate the professor with a vengeance the first time around. Even knowing about Snape's true loyalties; about the lengths he would go to stop Voldemort, didn't make Harry any happier about being the subject of his cruelty again.

Harry shared a table with Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Snape took the register, and Harry focused on sensing Legilimency. He knew Snape was a master Legilimens, but would he really try to see into his mind in the middle of class? Harry was confident he would be able to raise his shields before Snape saw anything incriminating. So when Snape made his usual snide remarks about Harry's celebrity status, Harry remained calm and stared right back.

_Don't antagonise him, Harry. You don't have logical reason to know the answers yet. Your potions book still had the wrapper on it before class._ Hermione warned in his head. He took a deep breath and prepared himself. When Snape started shooting questions, Harry replied with "I don't know, sir," trying to appear as polite and humble as possible. But of course, Snape saw what he expected to see, so Harry doubted it really mattered how he behaved.

"It seems fame can only get you so far," Snape smirked. Malfoy was sniggering with Crabbe and Goyle, but of course they didn't lose any points.

When the time came to divide into pairs and make a potion to cure boils, Snape didn't hesitate to capitalise on the rumours. "Potter, Granger, you are not to partner with each other. Your lack of self-control may prove too… distracting to other students." Malfoy looked like he was almost in tears from holding back laughter, and the rest of the Slytherins were making kissy faces at them.

Harry had already moved to partner with Ron, who shrugged and grimaced as if to say 'just grin and bear it, mate', while Hermione moved her things closer to Neville, who looked thoroughly terrified of his cauldron.

Harry was determined to brew a potion so perfect that even Snape couldn't find fault with it. He had to stop Ron from adding the wrong ingredients at the wrong times, as well as making sure he stirred it properly. When Ron looked a little exasperated with Harry's micromanaging, Harry just shrugged and muttered, "I don't want to give him anything he can use against us. Better to be careful, yeah?" Ron nodded, his expression hardening. Neither of them were fond of Snape.

Neville and Hermione were also doing quite well, with Hermione mumbling praise and encouragement every time Neville had to add something. The boy looked fairly pleased with himself, if a mite embarrassed by Hermione's attention. He looked worriedly at Harry a few times, but Harry just gave him a thumbs-up under the table, which seemed to put his mind at ease.

At the end of the lesson, when Snape inspected their potion, he didn't miss a beat. "I see you've been copying Malfoy's every move. I look forward to seeing how you perform when you don't have anybody else to lean on." The Slytherins chuckled. Ron looked mutinous and Harry could see why: their potion was the perfect shade of green described in the book, while Malfoy's was very pale and yellowish.

They spent the walk up from the dungeons talking venomously about Snape's favouritism. Hermione excused herself to the library again, so Ron was a little happier about going to Hagrids. The afternoon was spent complaining about Snape and Malfoy, and a little bit of digging about the Gringotts break-in that Harry had barely noticed this time. He asked a few questions just so Ron was aware he was interested, in case they ended up getting involved. Harry hadn't thought much about how they were going to deal with Quirrell, and every time he tried to ask Hermione ("Maybe I should just give him a high-five?"), she shook her head and told him to be patient.

So patient he was.

The morning post was becoming Harry's least favourite event. He wasn't expecting anything, but just having to put up with Malfoy gloating about treats his mother had sent him was enough to make anyone gag. The occasional comment about some people not having mothers to send them things also grated on his nerves. Ron and Neville were furious, but he waved them off. "It's not worth it. The little git's just trying to get us in trouble," he told them. Hermione just quietly glared across the room. Harry wondered if she ever used Legilimency on other people.

With imminent flying lessons to look forward to, Harry was feeling pretty optimistic about his day. Then Neville received his Remembrall, and he felt even better. The possibility of _not_ becoming Seeker again didn't even enter his mind. He grinned as Neville held the orb up to the light, watching the red mist swirl around inside of it.

Malfoy swaggered past and snatched the Remembrall from Neville's outstretched hand. Harry was on his feet with his wand in Malfoy's face a second later. The pale boy looked a little surprised at his decisive reaction, but his expression hardened to a scowl as Ron joined him, his battered wand right beneath Malfoy's nose. To everyone's surprise, Neville was up a moment later, his wand shaking as he joined Harry and Ron. Crabbe and Goyle looked shocked at encountering resistance, their mouths opening like a pair of very fat, stupid fish, and they were cracking their knuckles as Professor McGonagall arrived.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked sharply.

"Malfoy has my Remembrall," Neville said, his voice wavering. Harry saw a trace of the Neville he had known, the fighter who had rallied Dumbledore's Army in Harry's absence. He decided, then and there, to consult Hermione about bringing Neville into their little group. Ron still wasn't fond of _her_, so they weren't technically a 'group' yet, but that would change eventually, and Harry wanted to gather people he could trust. Only as Malfoy handed back the Remembrall and flounced away did Harry realise he finally had a first step in his long-term plan.

"Thanks," mumbled Neville as they all sat back down. The disturbance had everyone looking their way, trying to see what was going on.

"Any time," Harry grinned. Neville smiled back.

Ron was still scowling after Malfoy. "Who does he think he is? Remember all that garbage about manners and politeness he was spouting on the train, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Shows how much his words are worth."

"Too right." Ron slapped Neville on the back jovially, making the boy choke on his pumpkin juice. "You might want to be careful about walking around on your own. Malfoy's probably out to get you now."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione, and found she was looking just as surprised. Ron hadn't cared that much about Neville being bullied the first time. It was a sign that they were changing more than they realised. As Neville regained control of his breathing, his face flushed, he managed to grin.

The Flying lesson that afternoon was a subject of much trepidation for several students, Neville and Hermione among them. Even in later life, when she could crack a giant's skull at fifty yards and disintegrate the body with a casual flick of her wand, she had never been comfortable on a broomstick.

Harry was excited to be in the air again, and couldn't help grinning as they took their places beside the brooms. When she gave the signal, his broom leapt up into his hands. It was no Firebolt, but he had been so long without a broom that he didn't mind. Hermione's came up half-way, before falling back to the grass. He smirked at her and she blushed furiously.

"Enough flirting, Potter, you're putting her off," Madam Hooch said briskly, but not unkindly. She wasn't a cruel teacher.

Harry's cheeks burned and Malfoy guffawed, his broom also ready in his hand. Ron's broom rose unsteadily to meet him, and he looked pleased with himself when he noticed most of the class still struggling. Harry wondered if it was his latent Keeper skills that made the broom respond well. Hermione's finally twitched up into her hand and she glared at Harry, as though daring him to say anything. Harry smiled pleasantly, but he was laughing on the inside. She was obviously watching his thoughts, because she turned red again and looked away.

"I said _enough_, Potter," Madam Hooch said warningly. "Good grief, you're going to be a handful." Some of the Gryffindors laughed this time, and Harry shrugged sheepishly. _Was_ he flirting? Or was it just friendly ribbing? He was disturbed that he couldn't tell. They were _eleven_ for goodness sake!

Ron was chuckling at his scolding, so Harry shoved him lightly. "You ever flown before?"

"Yeah, my brothers and I play pick-up Quidditch back home," Ron replied. "It's dead simple, you'll be fine."

"We'll see," said Harry, trying to inject a little nervousness into his voice.

Finally, when the rest of the class had their brooms ready and mounted, Madam Hooch addressed them as a group. "I want no funny business from those of you who can already fly. Everyone must follow my instructions _without deviation_, is that clear?" After everyone mumbled their assent, she readied her whistle. "On my mark, kick off from the ground hard, float for a few seconds while remaining steady, then return to the ground by leaning forward slightly. Ready?"

Harry completely forgot that Neville's accident was the cause for McGonagall noticing Harry's flying skills, and was about to caution Neville not to take off too fast when Hermione gave him a significant look. He frowned, not sure what she was trying to say, only to realise a moment later, as Neville shot into the air before the whistle, that she was two steps ahead of him.

It was Neville's shoulder that was hurt this time, rather than his wrist, but Madam Hooch led him to the hospital wing the same as before. Malfoy talked loudly about how stupid Neville was, and how brooms can sense your intelligence and buck you if you're too dumb to fly. "I mean, did you see his face? Probably wet himself as soon as his feet left the ground," he sneered, to the approval of his housemates.

"Oh, shut up Malfoy!" said Hermione furiously. "He could have been hurt!"

Malfoy turned to face her as though he had been interrupted by a particularly rude bit of filth. Pansy Parkinson gave a sickly smile. "Longbottom _and_ Potter? Are you starting a collection, Hermione?" she said harshly.

"Not another word," Harry said quietly, walking closer to the Slytherins. The Gryffindors followed him, Ron at his side fingering his wand, and Hermione glaring daggers at Pansy Parkinson.

"Sticking up for your girlfriend, Potter?" laughed Malfoy. "Or are you worried that she's ditching you for Longbottom?"

"At least I _have_ a girlfriend," Harry said without thinking. "What's the matter, your Mum can't buy you one of those, too?" Ron roared with laughter, as did the rest of the Gryffindors.

Malfoy's face paled and he scowled at them. "At least I _have_ a Mum at all," he spat, and the Slytherins laughed and jeered at Harry.

The Gryffindors were sounding mutinous now. Whether or not they liked Harry personally, they were all united against Slytherin. Harry stepped forward, thrusting his hand into his pocket, of the mind to hex Malfoy into the next millennium. But his foot kicked something forward, and he noticed Malfoy's eyes gleam.

"What's this, then? That trinket Longbottom's gran sent him." He picked it up and tossed it from hand to hand.

"Give that to me," Harry said in a low voice, his blood thundering in his ears.

"Ooh, very threatening," Malfoy said mockingly. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find it – up a tree, maybe?"

Harry lunged forward, but Malfoy mounted and kicked off before he could get the Remembrall. Harry quickly mounted his broom and followed, to the surprise of his housemates. The broom wasn't of the best quality, but Harry could fly in his sleep. He easily caught up to Malfoy, who hovered above a tall tree.

"What now, Malfoy? You left your bodyguards behind!" Harry shouted.

Malfoy seemed to take into account Harry's ease on a broomstick, and the fact that he didn't have his burly protectors around him for once. His pale face paled a little more, and he seemed to cut his losses with a careless shrug. "You want it?" he turned his broom away from Harry and lobbed it like a trebuchet, high into the air. "Go get it!"

Harry didn't hesitate before speeding after the Remembrall. It was easier to keep track off than a snitch, plus it was moving in a very clear arc. Harry saw in his mind the point he would have to aim for to catch it, and leaned all the way forward, streamlining his body. The wind buffeted him, sending his robes flapping about, but he didn't adjust his course.

Flying was as much a part of him as his scar, in his opinion. When his hand closed around the Remembrall, he smiled. In the air, his problems seemed so minor and far away. As he wheeled about – with a little bit of showmanship, admittedly – he saw the Gryffindors were cheering. He dropped into a sharp dive, only to pull up at the last moment and come to a gentle stop with his feet on the ground.

"Potter!" Professor McGonagall ran across the grass towards him. "What on _earth_ – are you so eager to break your – don't _ever_ let me see you do anything so foolish again!" Harry could see Malfoy grinning triumphantly over with the Slytherins. "Come with me, Potter," McGonagall said sharply.

She led him through the crowd of Gryffindors, who did their best to say they approved of his actions without annoying McGonagall. Ron was grinning so broadly Harry wondered if his mouth would ever be the same shape again. "Nice one, Harry," he whispered as he passed.

Hermione was watching him, trying and failing to look furious that he'd disobeyed Madam Hooch. As soon as Harry was close enough, he gave her a wink, feeling pretty cocky and rebellious. She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks went red, and the other Gryffindors chuckled. He didn't know what the hell he was doing calling her his girlfriend, but everything had turned out so brilliantly he didn't care to think about it right now.

At dinner, Harry quietly told his friends about his place on the Quidditch team, leaving Ron as astounded as he had been the first time. Harry was so caught up in his brilliant day that he ignored Hermione's thoughts for once. She frowned at him and he shrugged at her.

_Can't I just enjoy today? You told me I needed to be patient before we could get to work, and that's what I'm doing. I haven't forgotten about why we came back, but remember that these are our lives now, and we should still enjoy them while we can._

Hermione looked a little taken-aback at his response, and her Legilimency withdrew from his mind. For a while, anyway. She was apparently so used to reading Harry's thoughts that she was visibly startled when he hardened his passive defences. They didn't make him cold and emotionless like his full shields did, and they were more of a warning system than anything; a way to tell if someone is trying to get in, and a time-buying roadblock if they were. In his interactions with Hermione, it was a sign he didn't want her in his mind at the moment.

She was chewing her lip more than the food, and kept darting glances at him and poking his passive defences, as though knocking on a door. Harry sighed and let her in again.

_I'm fine, Hermione. Do you really need to be in my head twenty-four-seven?_

She winced a little as she pushed a bit slice of cucumber around on her plate. _Sorry. I'm just used to it. It's different when someone doesn't mind you in their head. It feels more welcoming and comforting to know they trust you so much._

_Alright, easy there. You can see I trust you to the bone, you shouldn't need a daily reminder._

She looked even guiltier, but pleased too. _What was with the 'girlfriend' thing today?_

Harry felt uneasy about the whole situation. Hermione's words the other night had stuck with him: the people they loved in the future were very, very different in the past. Ron wasn't even noticing girls, and seemed to put up with Hermione's presence as a favour to Harry. Ginny… she was a _child! _She would be shy, and unable to speak when near Harry… she wasn't just going to be a smaller version of the blazing woman he had fallen in love with. It had taken years for Harry to even notice her, and it had already been almost five years since he'd last spoken to her when they entered the time stream. He was so confused.

Hermione must have seen all of his thoughts, but she remained silent, waiting for him to compose a proper response. _I think… because I said it so publicly, we should play along. What do you think?_

_I agree. It would just give Snape and Malfoy more fodder if we 'broke up'._

So on they went. Hermione made an effort not to constantly sit in Harry's head whenever they were together, for which he was grateful. He didn't mind so much, but he still liked having a bit of privacy. She'd seen all the nasty thoughts and images he could conjure, so there wasn't much left to hide from her. It was more about the principle of the thing.

Malfoy's duel challenge at dinner got Ron worked up, but before he could accept on Harry's behalf, Harry stepped in. "Why at night? Why in the trophy room? Tell you what, Malfoy, let's go out to the lake right now and do it there."

Suddenly Malfoy wasn't looking quite as sure of himself, even with Crabbe and Goyle backing him up. "Too scared to come out at night, Potter?" he sneered.

"Too scared to fight me right now?" Harry replied, not breaking eye contact.

Malfoy's gaze shifted to the staff table, probably hoping Snape would come and pull him out of his hole. Instead, McGonagall was striding towards them. "The lake," Malfoy grunted, "Four O'clock tomorrow." He moved away before McGonagall could reach them.

Harry was surprised. He hadn't expected Malfoy to actually agree to any meeting outside the castle, away from Filch and Mrs Norris, as well as the teachers.

"He's going to cheat, you know," Hermione said conversationally.

"What else is new?" Ron muttered.

"Cheating won't save him," Harry said with a grin, taking a sip of his juice.

Hermione sighed as though putting up with two misbehaving children – which was fairly accurate, actually (her lips quirked as he thought that). "I've been studying Defence Against the Dark Arts spells after that horrid flying lesson. I could give you both some pointers tonight, if you like."

Harry agreed instantly, and Ron did a moment later. He looked a little surprise that she was being helpful. That night, they sat on some of the squashy chairs in the common-room and listened to Hermione talk about basic defensive spells. Ron could only put up with listening for so long, and soon asked Harry if he wanted to spar. Harry agreed enthusiastically, and they took places next to the wall and drew their wands.

A spike of caution in his head made him give Hermione a flat look. Her warning was a little tiresome; as if Harry would just blast Ron through the wall and out of the tower. She went pink and withdrew from his mind.

They practiced Shield Charms first. Harry deliberately made his smaller than Ron's, as well as making it waver occasionally, just so he wouldn't look like a show-off. Ron ended up getting a bit cocky, so Harry demanded they move on the Stunning spells. Harry decided to put a little more effort in, and after _enervating_ Ron for the third time, they both agreed where their strengths lay. A small gaggle of Gryffindors had been watching them, and word had somehow got out that they were going to duel Malfoy and Crabbe.

"Give him one for us, Harry!" Fred Weasley said cheerfully.

"Or two," added George seriously.

"Or four."

"Or – you know what? Just don't stop giving it to him." The twins were delighted that Ron had agreed to be Harry's second, though they certainly piled the pressure on.

"If you lose to Malfoy, Dad will never hear the end of it," said Fred.

Ron turned a little green.

"But don't worry," George said reassuringly. "You'll only have to fight if Harry dies."

"Thanks," Harry said dryly.

The next morning, Ron was looking nervous all through Charms class, and he nearly set Professor Flitwick's hat on fire with a careless wave of his wand. Harry didn't really want Ron trying to cast defensive magic while under duress with that wand, but he didn't intend to lose to Malfoy. Hermione was absent from class for some reason. Harry started worrying just as the bell rang.

But before he could go looking for her, he was intercepted by Professor McGonagall, who took Harry back to her office. At first he thought the teachers had found out about the duel, but she was actually rather pleasant as she sat down behind her desk and gestured Harry to a chair. "You're not in trouble, Potter, so stop fidgeting." Harry reddened. "I wanted to talk to you about your work in class. I've been speaking to the other teachers, and we think it's high time somebody sat you down and gave you the facts."

Harry's chest tightened. "What do you mean, Professor?"

"Potter, you excel in every single class, including Potions, and that is no easy feat for a Gryffindor." Her mouth twisted distastefully at the end. Her rivalry with Snape was well-known.

"I thought Snape was marking me down," Harry replied, surprised that he wasn't.

"_Professor_ Snape. And even he can only smudge grades so far." Her eyes narrowed. "Don't repeat that."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Professor," Harry said cheekily. He just had to stay calm.

Surprisingly, a rare smile flitted across McGonagall's lips. "The purpose of this meeting is to measure your natural magical ability, if you allow it."

"What would that entail?" he asked nervously, and not a hint of it was feigned.

"Just a simple spell. All you'll feel is a slight tickling sensation."

Harry wasn't sure what to do. If he declined, what would his reason be? McGonagall would never accept that he was scared of the spell. If he accepted, what else might the spell reveal? In the end, he decided that if worst came to worst, he might be able to Obliviate McGonagall. It was an awful thought, but Harry expected desperate measures to become necessary sooner or later.

"Alright. What do I do?"

"Please remain still." McGonagall drew her wand and waved it in a circle around his chest. He shivered a little as a prickling sensation crossed his body. McGonagall's eyes widened. "Goodness…"

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Harry said, his hand resting on his lap, ready to seize his wand.

"I… yes, Potter, there's nothing wrong with you." Her stunned expression was replaced by her usual stern gaze. "You are very naturally gifted, in fact. You are as powerful as a fully-trained adult, and it seems you will grow even stronger over the next few years."

Harry stared at her. He had been as strong as he was able to get before he came back with Hermione. Before now, he'd thought he had kept the knowledge of a full education and Auror training, as well as the spells he and Hermione found while researching Deep Magic, but would have to wait for his magical strength to build up before he could cast more advanced spells again. Evidently, this was not the case.

But he was going to get _even stronger?_ That was a surprising thought. Was he going to increase by the same amount that he had when he went through school last time? Was he, quite literally, going to eventually become twice as powerful? He almost trembled at the thought. He didn't want that much power, he'd always been satisfied with what he had.

"Is that rare?" he asked, realising he had been quiet for a little too long.

"Exceedingly. If I hadn't tested Hermione Granger as well, I'd say you were unique."

"Hermione? Do you know where she is?" At her look, he hastily added, "Er, Professor."

"Miss Granger is most likely hunting down Professor Flitwick in order to make up for missing class."

"Oh." Harry couldn't help but sigh in relief. Hermione might be an extremely capable witch, but Malfoy wasn't above stunning her from behind. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on his friends.

"Now, Potter, I must ask… were either you or Miss Granger aware of each other's power? I hesitate to trust vapid gossipers, but one does wonder."

"I, uh, don't really know." Harry cursed his eleven-year-old brain as his cheeks burned. "I mean, I feel pretty close to her, and I haven't known her for long, so maybe I can – I don't know – _sense_ it or something." He thought that was a pretty good lie, and his uncertainty left it wide open in case he was wrong.

McGonagall nodded, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Very well, Potter. I hate to embarrass you like that, but… well, it doesn't matter. You may return to your friends."

Harry excused himself and had to resist the urge to run after leaving the office. Ron was waiting not far down the corridor. He looked caught between worry and hope. "The duel's still on," said Harry, thereby collapsing Ron into a state of worry. "She tested me for my 'natural magical ability'."

"And?"

"Well, uh…"

Ron heard the hesitation in Harry's voice and raised his eyebrows, his fear momentarily forgotten. "Come on, you can trust me."

"I know. But – look, don't spread it around, okay?" He waited for Ron to nod before continuing. "She said I'm as powerful as a full-grown adult… and so is Hermione."

Ron's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Bloody hell."

"Language, Mister Weasley," said McGonagall, startling them both. She passed by with a satisfied twinge to her lips. Harry cursed himself for not hearing her office door open.

At lunch, he, Ron and Hermione talked in hushed voices. "I've _never_ heard of a kid being so powerful," said Ron seriously. "Except maybe Dumbledore – he was a prodigy according to my Dad."

"It's certainly surprising," Hermione murmured.

_I noticed certain spells worked better than expected. This just confirmed my suspicions._ She spoke to Harry inside his head.

_Certain spells? What have you been up to?_ Harry wasn't sure whether to be apprehensive or not.

_Legilimency, for one. Putting thoughts into someone else's mind is something only really good Legilimens can do, but I can do it to you relatively easily._

_I'm not exactly resisting, though._

_Yes, but it's still an important development of my skills._

Harry couldn't disagree with that.

"I mean, maybe Harry being that powerful would be understandable – he beat You-Know-Who while wearing diapers – but you're that strong as well?" Ron shook his head disbelievingly, completely missing Hermione's irritated look. "Blimey," Ron said miserably, "Now I've got to compete against two prodigies _and_ my brothers."

Ron hadn't spoken too much about the pressure he felt he was under in the other timeline, so for him to just mention it casually was a little surprising. Hermione seemed to think so too. "You're not competing with us, we're Gryffindors. Our main competition is Slytherin," she said firmly.

Giving her a curious look, Ron scratched his chin. "I s'pose you're right." He looked a little shocked at himself for admitting it. "Well, I'm glad we got all the prodigies. Imagine if there was one in Slytherin, they'd never shut up about it." Harry couldn't help but laugh.

As four o'clock approached, Harry began to get twitchy. He was ready to face whatever trap Malfoy was planning, but the waiting was killing him. He had taken to pacing the common-room with his wand out. Hermione watched from a nearby chair. They had gone through a few memory palace and meditation exercises, but Harry wasn't able to focus.

Harry's restlessness was apparently contagious, because Ron was soon pacing with him.

"What if he starts using really bad curses, things his Dad taught him?"

"We'll need to duck," Harry replied. The Weasley twins, who were watching their pacing with interest, chuckled lightly.

"That's the spirit, Harry!" Fred cheered.

"What if he gets the merpeople in the lake to throw their spears at us?" said Ron.

"Shield Charms work on physical things too, not just magic," Hermione said helpfully.

"That makes me feel loads safer," Ron muttered sarcastically.

"Your Shield Charm is better than mine, Ron," said Harry, stomping on his irritation. "You can keep a look out for any incoming spears and hold them back while I deal with Malfoy."

Ron perked up a little. "Yeah, good idea."

They bantered until three-thirty, when Harry decided they'd head down early. He couldn't wait any longer, and getting there before Malfoy might mean they would see his trap before it sprung. A few Gryffindors wished them luck, and Hermione gave a very embarrassed Harry a kiss on the cheek before they left.

They were silent as they descended through the castle. A few students were milling about, enjoying the free time. Harry saw a few Slytherins smirk at them as they reached the Entrance Hall. "What d'you suppose they know?" whispered Ron.

"Whatever Malfoy's got going on, he'd want his whole house to know about beating us." Harry gave his mate a slap on the back. "That's why it's going to be so embarrassing for him when he runs back to the dungeons crying." Ron nodded. He was brave enough to go down there with Harry, but he clearly didn't expect to make it back in one piece.

They left the castle and crossed the wide expanse of grass, taking a beaten path down to the edge of the lake. Nobody was there yet, and the black water was as smooth as glass. Harry positioned himself a little further along the bank, where they'd be able to see anyone coming from the castle.

The minutes ticked by, and Ron's nervousness slowly turned to irritation. "A beating I can take," he muttered, "But this _waiting_ is just bloody impolite." Harry chuckled.

A figure with green-trimmed robes stood out on the field, looking at them. Whoever it was, they were too far away to make out. "D'you reckon that's Malfoy?" Ron asked, squinting.

"Looks a bit too burly. Might be Crabbe or Goyle."

Slowly, other figures in similar robes took up places out on the field, never next to each other. There were at least twelve now, and Harry's heart was speeding up. _So this is how it's going to be, then?_

At once, as though they had received a signal, the Slytherins converged on the lake, merging into a pack with a pale, smirking leader at their head. "Glad you could make it, Potter, Weasel," he said as they stopped a few yards away. "You remember our talk about manners?" The Slytherins laughed. "I think it's time to teach you some."

Draco drew his wand, and so did every other Slytherin. Harry and Ron already had theirs out, and simultaneously raised them, shouting "_Protego!_"

Two magic shields expanded between the Slytherins and their prey. This time, Harry's Shield Charm was twice as big as Ron's, and it didn't waver for a moment. Harry wasn't taking chances.

The moment the boys cast their shields was the same moment the Slytherins began hurling curses and hexes towards them. Harry was treated to a delightful image of Draco's eyes widening in shock, his lips opening to tell them to stop casting, but it was far, far too late.

All of the nasty spells the Slytherins used, every single one, bounced off the shields and flew straight back at them. And who was standing at the front, feeling completely safe surrounded by his little army?

Draco Malfoy.

Harry dispelled his shield, and Ron did the same. They looked down at the groaning mess before them. The Slytherins were not looking their best. Several faces were covered in painful-looking boils, or their tongues had swollen to three times as big as their mouth. A couple were missing clumps of hair, and one boy had smoke billowing out of his ears.

But Malfoy had taken the brunt of the attack. He was barely recognisable; his skin was bright red and swollen, his hair had turned white and set itself on fire, and his legs kept jerking around, trying to tap-dance while lying on the ground.

Harry felt an urge, a terrible urge, and he almost sunk into Occlumency to stop himself from doing it. He looked down on Malfoy's dazed face, praying for the strength not to go through with it. But no matter how he struggled, he knew there was no resisting this particular urge.

"Class dismissed," he whispered.

Harry and Ron laughed their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The few Slytherins they encountered on the way looked shocked to see them, and a few bolted outside, probably to check on their housemates.

They clambered through the portrait hole arm-in-arm, and a number of Gryffindors greeted them. It wasn't like winning the Quidditch Cup, but it was a victory for the house, and anyone would be happy about that.

The story was told and re-told more times than Harry could count. He always told it as though it was Ron's plan all along, and how his mate's genius was what saved them. Ron, ears bright red, always told the opposite, that Harry had blasted Slytherins left and right, and even punched one so hard they were knocked out.

Hermione got the full story from Harry's mind, but she still listened attentively as he retold it. He was grateful; sometimes it was annoying having your words picked out of your brain before you say them. Since Ron was listening, he pretended to be surprised that his Shield Charm worked so well, and claimed that it must have been the adrenaline or something. Ron gave him a look that said he knew he was trying to play himself down, but he didn't object. Harry wanted Ron to not be forgotten if the story became part of Hogwarts' history, and the best way to do that was to play down his own involvement.

God knows, he was casting a long enough shadow as it was.

**A/N**

**Legilimency is about reading fully-formed thoughts like actions, spells, and memories. In canon, it cannot be used to 'read minds' as thoughts are too fluid. This is clearly not the case in this story.**

**Jeez, that Harry + Hermione shipping came on a bit strong, didn't it? I wonder if there's a reason for that...**

**Please review! I have the next few chapters done and I want to know any major flaws so I can fix them before I dig myself into a hole.**


	3. Chapter 2: Rational Hubris

**Chapter 2: Rational Hubris  
><strong>

As always, Harry Potter underestimated the rate at which rumours spread. By breakfast the next morning, the school was buzzing about the 'duel', which had grown steadily out of proportion with each retelling. The only facts anyone had was that twelve Slytherins were in the hospital wing, and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had put them there. For the Gryffindors, that was enough to earn them a bit of house glory.

Ron had an unusual reaction to glory, Harry found. For someone who hated living in the shadows of other people, he sure was bashful about being in the light. He put on a cocky façade if there were a lot of people around, but in private he seemed more subdued and embarrassed than usual. Harry wondered what the long-term effects of this early glory were going to be.

By the afternoon, Harry thought they were safe from punishment. Surely if the Slytherins had wanted to get them in trouble, they would have done it by now. But just as Harry constantly underestimated gossip mongers, he also had forgotten just how far Slytherins would go to get revenge for even the most minor of slights – and this was hardly minor.

When Snape and McGonagall began walking their way as they were about to finish lunch, Harry had a sinking feeling. He nudged Ron, who nearly choked on his sandwich when he noticed. Neville was talking to Hermione about getting locked out of the common-room and having to sleep on the ground, but the story trailed off as they too noticed the impending doom.

"Whatever happens, it was a pleasure eating with you," Harry said, raising his chin and bracing himself. Ron whimpered. Nearby conversations died away as people noticed what was happening.

"Potter, Weasley, come with us," McGonagall said sharply. There was no hint of humour in her eyes now.

"Professor?" Harry said as they rose. "Have we done something wrong?" There were gasps from a few people listening. Harry supposed it probably wasn't the smartest choice of words.

"Look at their faces, they're _proud_ of what they've done! The _insolence_–" Snape's eyes were livid as he glared down at them.

"The Headmaster's office," interrupted McGonagall. "Come." Her tone brooked no further discussion.

They left the hall almost jogging to keep up with the Professors' strides. The hatred radiating from Snape was so intense Harry thought he saw actual steam leaving his ears. McGonagall certainly didn't seem likely to come to their defence. She wouldn't even meet their eyes. Harry began to worry. This hadn't happened the last time, and he had no idea what the consequences would be.

"Harry," hissed Ron as they rounded a corner. "What are we gonna do? Malfoy's probably fed them a bunch of lies, and all the Slytherins will back him up."

"I'll handle it," Harry replied calmly.

"Quiet," snapped Snape.

They arrived at the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office. "Fizz Pops," said McGonagall. The gargoyle leapt aside and the turning stairs appeared. Snape shoved them both in first, as though to make it clear they couldn't back out.

Ron's face was a faint shade of purple as they neared the top. Harry just took some calming deep breaths and held his head high. He was in control. He had the advantage, no matter how many lies Malfoy had concocted. He _refused_ to freak out like he almost did with the sorting hat.

Inside he found all twelve Slytherins waiting, with a few parents behind them. Malfoy had a pleased look on his face (which had unfortunately returned to normal), though he hid it quickly, wearing a pained grimace instead. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his eyes not twinkling in the slightest. The piercing blue gaze Harry hadn't seen in so long suddenly seemed a lot less comforting than they had in the 'past'. Exactly how strong a Legilimens was Dumbledore, anyway?

Ron's parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, stood off to the side, looking pale. Harry felt bad that he had put them through a lot of worry, and hoped they wouldn't hold it against him. He _really_ wanted to spend his holidays at the Burrow rather than Privet Drive. Maybe if that didn't happen, he could stay with Hermione instead?

Lucius Malfoy stood behind Draco, looking utterly furious but somehow maintaining his composure at the same time. Ron was looking at his shoes, but Harry met his eyes without blinking. "I hope you've enjoyed your moment of glory, Potter, because you won't be here long," the man said venomously.

Harry nodded to him. "Nice to meet you, Mister Malfoy," he said politely. Ron gave him a look like he was a madman.

Dumbledore stood, immediately commanding everyone's attention. "Now that we are all here, we can begin. I have already heard young Malfoy's version of events; now I will hear yours," he directed the last bit at Harry and Ron.

"Is there a particular place you would like me to start, Professor?" Harry asked.

"How you came to be at the lake would be a fine choice," replied Dumbledore.

"Of course." Harry took a deep breath. "The day before the incident, Malfoy accosted us at dinner, challenging me to a duel in the trophy room at midnight that night."

"That's a lie!" spat Malfoy, forgetting to look wounded for a moment.

Harry glanced at him. "It's impolite to interrupt people, Draco. For all that talk about 'teaching people manners', you seem to misplace yours fairly often." He turned back to Dumbledore, not letting himself get distracted by the reactions of the parents.

"I refused, of course," Harry continued. "I realised Malfoy could easily tip off Filch that someone was going to be in the trophy room late at night, rather than actually showing up to duel me." Malfoy's face flushed. "I instead proposed that we go out to the lake and duel immediately."

"Fighting is prohibited at Hogwarts," sneered Lucius with a little smile. "You are admitting your own guilt."

"I see where Draco's problem with manners comes from," Harry said callously, earning a few sharp gasps around the room. He didn't care; he was getting angry at being interrupted.

"Continue," said Dumbledore, forestalling any further comments.

"Malfoy eventually agreed to go to the lake at four o'clock the next day. Ron volunteered to be my second, and Malfoy chose Crabbe as his. Naturally, given our past encounters, we knew Malfoy was planning to cheat, so we studied a few defensive spells just in case. Just basic Shield Charms and Stunning Spells–"

"Defensive spells? Stunning Spells are distinctly _offensive_ in nature," Snape snapped, pouncing like a predator spotting weakness.

Harry wasn't dumb enough to be as careless with Snape as he was with the Malfoy family. "Yes, we thought we should cover our bases. As it turned out, however, we didn't need to cast a single Stunning Spell. When Malfoy showed up with a lot more than just Crabbe and started attacking, their hexes bounced off our shields and came back at them. They were taken out by their own hubris, not by our spells." Harry realised he was sounding a little overdramatic and took it down a notch. "You can check our wands, can't you? I'm sure proper, objective examination of the wands of everyone involved in the incident by an independent third party will easily reveal who's telling the truth."

The Slytherins were looking a little nervous now, and Lucius looked as though he wanted to wring Harry's neck on the spot. McGonagall was looking quite taken aback at his calm, rational defence. Clearly, she had expected this to be their word against Malfoy's. Dumbledore's eyes had regained their twinkle, and Harry knew the fight was won. He still had one more trick to reveal, however, and he was quite enjoying having an audience for once.

"But, you know," Harry said, as none of the adults seemed to have anything to add, "You don't have to take my word for it, Professor." He pointed at a familiar basin on a table behind Dumbledore's desk. It was emitting a faint blue-white light. "That's a Penseive, isn't it? Hermione told me about them. We don't have to rely on my word against Draco's, or bother checking wands. We can watch the incident in full detail, right now."

"You little prick!" spat one of the Slytherins, a third-year boy Harry didn't know. His father immediately put his hands on his shoulders to stop him from lunging at Harry. "I could take you down any time!" Several of the other Slytherins were grumbling their agreement.

"Are you all really so eager to return to the hospital wing?" Harry asked jovially, enjoying every second. The grumblings grew louder, until Dumbledore rested his hands on his desk. That's all, just a simple action, but everyone went silent.

"I believe, based on the reactions of your children," the Headmaster said calmly, looking each Slytherin parent in the eye, with special attention to Lucius, "That there will be no need for any of the methods of attaining the truth that young Harry has suggested?"

With the appearance of someone being forced to swallow something disgusting, Lucius replied, "Evidently. Though I might add, wands can be cleared, and memories can be tampered with."

"Shame you didn't think of that before coming, then, wasn't it?" Harry said quietly. He had never seen Lucius look so _ugly_, so hateful, ever before.

"Punishments?" the man asked with barely-contained hatred, turning back to the Headmaster.

"Severe, but private," Dumbledore replied politely. "Judging from the injuries sustained by your children, several spells were used that are not taught in our curriculum. I am sure you are as appalled as I am, and will seek to remove the source of such dangerous knowledge."

"Of course."

"For now, they are confined to their dormitory, which I suggest they return to immediately."

The Slytherins and their parents marched out of the room, glaring daggers at Harry, who tried to keep his face expressionless. He'd antagonised them enough for three years' worth of revenge, there was no need to go overboard. Though the thought of offering Draco a high-five and a 'better luck next time' was profoundly amusing.

When the door closed, the only people left were Ron and his parents, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Harry. Snape had slipped out at some point.

Ron had a slightly dazed expression, as though he couldn't quite believe he was still alive. His parents rushed over to talk with him quietly, while Harry stood on his own, shuffling his feet under the combined gaze of the Headmaster and the Head of Gryffindor.

"Harry, were you aware that duelling is banned at Hogwarts?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry shrugged a little, being careful not to appear insolent. "I won't play dumb, Professor. I figured fighting wouldn't be allowed, magic or no magic. But I also know what happens if you don't stand up to bullies." _If that twinkle in his eyes gets any brighter, I'm going to need sunglasses._

"Potter, be truthful here… was the knowledge of your magical ability what made you behave so rashly?" McGonagall didn't sound angry, so he ventured a tentative smile.

"No. It's part of why I only used a Shield Charm though; the only way to hurt someone with _protego_ is if they try to hurt you first. The extra power was what gave me the confidence to hold a shield against so many spells at once."

Both professors looked pleased by his response. "You spoke very well just now, Harry," said Dumbledore warmly. "You argued your points rationally, and presented evidence to back your claims."

"Thanks, professor," Harry grinned. "Hermione thinks I have a flair for the dramatic, so I tried to keep it tasteful in light of such a serious situation."

Dumbledore and McGonagall both chuckled at that. "I daresay Miss Granger may be on to something, there," McGonagall said, wiping a tear from her eye.

The Weasley parents came over to him, and they were all smiles. "Harry, I'm Arthur, Ron's Dad, and this is Molly, his Mum," said Arthur Weasley, shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mister Weasley. Ron's told me about you."

"All good things, I hope?" Arthur chuckled.

"Yeah, your family sounds brilliant!" After so much seriousness, Harry felt a little awkward trying to slip back into innocent eleven-year-old behaviour, but none of the adults seemed to find it strange. He had to remember that they didn't know him before now, so they had nothing to base expectations on.

"Well, maybe you can visit in the holidays, if your aunt and uncle agree."

Harry was doubtful things had changed _that_ much.

"Harry, dear, Ron's been telling us about what happened," said Molly kindly. "This Draco boy seemed determined to start a ruckus sooner or later, and while I _certainly_ don't approve of fighting, I'm glad neither of you were hurt." Harry thought it was a good sign that she was already calling him 'dear'.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley." Harry smiled.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "I think we should discuss the possibility of retribution from other Slytherin house members." The Weasleys' smiles faded, and now Molly looked even more nervous than before.

"Surely there's a way to keep them in line?" asked Arthur. "Professor Snape–"

"Professor Snape will almost certainly make his pupils lie low for a week or two. His house has embarrassed themselves with their conduct, and none will be eager to bring further trouble upon themselves. They will wait until things 'cool down' a bit, and then strike." She turned her attention to Harry. "And since Mister Potter pointed out all the holes in their plan, I believe they will avoid making the same mistakes." Harry winced; he really should have saved the Penseive for later. But how would they get around it?

"So they have to walk around in fear for the rest of the year?" said Molly angrily, looking like a mother hen defending her chicks.

"Teachers cannot be everywhere at once. I wish I could simply say 'be cautious and avoid danger', but I think Potter and Weasley are… unlikely to run from a challenge."

"There might be a way to lessen the eventual backlash, Professor," said Harry thoughtfully. "Give us a few detentions. If we aren't punished at all, even after admitting that we willingly agreed to a duel, it will just enrage the Slytherins further. This way, it will be slightly unclear who the victors really were, and they can retain some of their pride."

Ron was gaping at him, and the Weasleys looked a mite stunned. Students didn't _ask_ for detention.

Dumbledore wore a little smile, and McGonagall's eyebrow had risen half an inch as he spoke. "Very well, Potter. I agree with your reasoning. You will both spend the next three evenings assisting our gamekeeper, Hagrid, in the forbidden forest."

Ron went white, but Harry smiled. "That's perfect, Professor."

"The forbidden forest?" Molly said, her face very similar to her son's. "Are you sure that's safe?"

"Hagrid knows the forest better than anyone. He won't take them anywhere dangerous," McGonagall said reassuringly. Harry smothered a smirk, knowing better, but he didn't want to worry Molly any more.

"I also think that regardless of our punishment, there will still be an attack of some kind sooner or later, and it might not just be limited to us two. Anyone in Gryffindor could be targeted," Harry added, chewing his lip. He turned to McGonagall. "Professor, would it be possible to start some kind of organisation where students can learn to defend themselves?"

"Are your Defence Against the Dark Arts classes insufficient?" she inquired.

"Er… Professor Quirrell is great, but a little extra study couldn't hurt." _Being taught by Voldemort isn't what I'd call a proper education._ He felt a little tendril of Legilimency press against his passive Occlumency defences, and _slammed_ his shields into place at full strength. He didn't look around, not wanting to meet Dumbledore's eyes.

If anyone sensed his shields, they didn't comment on it. "I suppose, given the state of the Gryffindor – Slytherin relationship, it might be prudent to instruct students in basic self-defence," said McGonagall. "Am I right in assuming you intend to teach them yourself?"

"Y-yes," he replied, still a little startled by the attempted intrusion. "With Ron and Hermione's help, of course."

Ron was looking a bit startled himself now. "Me? I only learned how to do a Shield Charm a few days ago."

"It ended up being pretty useful though, didn't it?" Harry ventured a grin, though he was very cold behind his shields.

"True, that." Ron scratched his head bashfully. "But I don't think I'm cut out for teaching. You and Hermione should do it; you're the prodigies. I'd only muck it up."

"You probably thought you were gonna muck it up out at the lake, too, but you didn't."

Ron's ears turned bright red. "Come on, Harry," he mumbled. "Don't make me teach in front of everyone." He looked particularly embarrassed that his parents were hearing this.

Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, fine."

McGonagall, who had watched their exchange with mild amusement, clasped her hands together with a sense of finality. "Very well. When you and Miss Granger have planned out the details, come to my office and I will assess whether your curriculum is appropriate."

"Thanks, Professor."

"With that," said Dumbledore, "I believe it is time you both returned to your friends, who are probably worried sick by now."

Ron said goodbye to his parents and he and Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling a little exhausted; Harry, from having to argue their case carefully and then straining to keep his shields at full strength, and Ron from being put through the emotional grinder. They walked quietly down the corridor.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron said finally. Harry looked at him questioningly. "When you said you'd handle it, I thought you were just pretending to be confident. That was mental."

Harry let his shields down and smiled. "I learned these exercises that help you keep calm under stress. Hermione knows them too, but she's way better at them than I am." He groaned. "I can't believe I got so cocky in there. The Malfoys are probably picking out my headstone by now."

"I think it was bloody brilliant," Ron laughed breathlessly. "I almost had a heart attack when you told off Malfoy's Dad for interrupting."

"_You_ almost had a heart attack? I felt like I was going to burst into flames just from the way he was glaring at me." They both laughed as they rounded a corner.

"So…" said Ron after a few moments. "D'you reckon you could teach me some of those exercises? I mean, I should have been able to help you in there, but my mouth kept filling up with saliva and I had to keep swallowing."

"Yeah, of course. In fact," he added, talking as the gears in his mind whirred, "I think we'll start training together, you, me, Hermione, and Neville now that his shoulder is better. We'll do the exercises, and some duelling stuff. Then, after the Christmas break, we'll start doing the self-defence classes, and you and Neville can show off how much you've learned in just a couple of months."

Ron's face lit up. "Do you think I'll be any good by then?"

Harry was exasperated. The original Ron hadn't been this unconfident, had he? _Original Ron?_ He didn't like that phrasing. It made this Ron sound like a cheap copy of his best mate. "You're already good, mate. By the time we start classes, you'll be duelling five Slytherins at a time just to warm up in the morning."

_That_ certainly kept Ron's spirits up as they returned to the Great Hall. They had some free time now, so they expected to find Hermione and Neville waiting for them. They only made it a few steps towards the Gryffindor table when they were cornered.

"We just saw an army of Slytherins go down to the dungeons, glaring at everything with a pulse," said George Weasley happily, throwing an arm around Ron.

"And we decided that meant you two had weaselled out somehow," Fred Weasley continued, putting an arm around Harry. They steered them towards a group of Gryffindors. Harry was happy to see Neville and Hermione in the centre, being asked questions. Hermione gave him an exhausted look as they were shoved into seats beside her and Neville.

"Right," said the twins together. "Spill it."

"Harry was _brilliant_," exclaimed Ron. "He practically told Malfoy's Dad to shut up right to his face!" A few appreciative murmurs circled the group.

Fred and George looked so proud they were about to cry. "I knew this Potter kid would be good for Gryffindor," Fred said emotionally.

"I agree wholeheartedly, dear brother," George added with a little sob.

"And then, when Malfoy started lying, Harry–" Ron began, but Harry cut him off.

"We probably shouldn't talk about it." There was a chorus of groans. "I will say one thing though: don't go anywhere alone for a while. The Slytherins will be out for blood now." If anything, that seemed to make the Gryffindors even happier.

George slapped Ron on the back, nearly knocking him off the bench. "You've done us proud, little brother.

"And you, Harry. We're hereby making you an honorary Weasley, with all the perks that entails," Fred said warmly. He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. "It makes chicks find you dead irresistible." He shared a grin with his brother. "Though from the way Little Miss Granger is staring at you, you've already got that covered."

A couple of the Gryffindors chuckled, and the group began to disperse. Harry turned to Hermione with a hopeful smile. He was dreading her opinion upon finishing rifling through his memory of the meeting. He hadn't even felt her Legilimency this time, which either meant she was getting stronger, or he needed to brush up on his Occlumency. Ron and Neville immediately started talking about Quidditch, giving them a little privacy.

Hermione's eyes seemed to bore into his head. He was getting a little nervous now. How badly did he mess up? Did he say more than he should have? He contemplated raising his shields and forcing her out of his head, just so she would finally say something.

"Hubris," said Hermione, frowning at him.

"Come again?" asked Harry.

"It's a trait you and Malfoy both share at the moment."

Harry was gobsmacked, and a little hurt. He'd expected at least a little bit of pride from her regarding his rational debating skills. He hadn't been anywhere near that collected during his first year at Hogwarts.

"I _am_ proud," she said, touching his arm. He brushed her off and hardened his passive defences. Her lips pursed as her Legilimency was evicted. "But you yourself acknowledged you were too cocky in there. It's not like you, Harry."

"Nobody else thought so."

"They don't know you like I do." Hermione folded her arms. "I don't like this 'new Harry' you're trialling. I mean, I like your cockiness sometimes, but what's always impressed me is your humility, and how grounded you are despite your fame." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I think all this foreknowledge and increase in magical power is making you overconfident."

Harry was furious. "How is it wrong to use my advantages to not be a shy, awkward git this time around?" he hissed.

"Because that shy, awkward git was one of the people I cared about most in the world, and I can't believe he became so insecure about his childhood that he feels the need to act like somebody else when given the chance to relive it!" Hermione was looking a bit hacked-off too now, and they glared at each other for several seconds.

Harry got up suddenly and walked away before he said something stupid. How dare she! He was trying to do things _better_ this time around, wasn't that the whole point of coming back in the first place?

He passed Fred and George in the Entrance Hall, and they both chuckled at his expression. "Love's a rocky road, eh Harry?" said Fred understandingly. Harry ignored them and went through the enormous doors and out into the cool air. He found himself heading towards the lake again without really knowing why.

By the time he stopped walking, he was on the bank opposite where the Slytherins had attacked him and Ron. He dropped to the ground with a huff and sat for a while, hating the fact that if anyone was near enough to see him, all they would see was a grumpy eleven-year-old.

What was Hermione on about? She'd told him they weren't in a position to start taking out Death Eaters and unravelling knots yet, let along tackling the Horcruxes, but when he immersed himself in school life and tried to have a little fun with it, she got all bent out of shape.

In his anger, it took almost half an hour for him to realise he had sat in this very spot once before, after the death of his godfather. It gave his heart a burst of joy to know Sirius was alive right this second, but the feeling was quashed by the knowledge that he likely wasn't enjoying life in the slightest. Azkaban would be peeling him apart, memory by memory. He only broke out last time because he saw a picture of Ron and Scabbers in the _Daily Prophet_. Would he get that paper, this time? Would he notice the rat with a missing claw?

_If worse comes to worst, I'll break him out myself_,Harry thought savagely. He would not lose his only family again, no matter the cost.

Harry realised he was quite far from the castle, out of sight of most of the windows. He drew his wand. Hermione's words had snapped him out of the lovely daze he'd been in, going to school and seeing his mates again, the only worries being the house rivalry with Slytherin, not a single thought of having to kill or be killed, or wondering if the neo-Death Eaters had finally gotten clever enough to get past their defences…

"_Reducto!_" he roared, jabbing his wand at a nearby rock. It exploded, sending pieces of stone flying like shrapnel. His Shield Charm was already up, and the bits bounced off harmlessly. He listened to the little splashes as some landed in the lake.

Without hesitating, he swung his wand at an ugly-looking bush, thinking _Diffindo!_ Leaves went flying into the air as half of the bush fell to the dirt. _Incendio, _he thought, but in the split-second before the sudden gust of flames reached the target, he realised smoke would be very noticeable, even from far away, and followed up with _Aguamenti._ The flames were extinguished, but not before a thin wisp of smoke began rising into the air. Harry twirled his wand in a circle, and the smoke was suddenly trapped in an invisible sphere. He dunked the sphere underwater with a splash and released it.

"That was _wicked_."

Harry spun around, a hundred spells going through his head, ready to counter–

Ron stood there along with Neville, their eyes wide. Harry lowered his wand. "What – how did you find me?"

"We followed you outside and saw you head over to the lake. At first we thought you were gonna do a lap and come back, but when you didn't, we came looking," explained Ron.

"You said not to go anywhere alone," Neville said, frowning at him. "Did you mean everyone except you?"

"I – no, I didn't," Harry replied defensively, having flashbacks to his return to Hogwarts during the Horcrux hunt. Neville had wanted so badly to help him. "What about Hermione? You left her alone in there?"

"We asked Fred and George to keep an eye on her."

"We're supposed to look out for each other, mate," Ron added seriously. "Dad told me what kinds of spells the Slytherin parents teach their kids."

"I know, I was – look, I was angry and I needed to blow off some steam. If the Slytherins had attacked, it would have ended badly for them."

There was an awkward silence in which Neville kicked one of the rock fragments into the lake. "I wish I could do magic like that," he said quietly.

"He's a prodigy, Neville," Ron said harshly, and Harry flinched. "We probably couldn't understand the kind of magic he does. He doesn't need us to watch his back." Ron turned and started walking back around the lake. After an indecisive glance at Harry, Neville followed.

Simmering anger roared back to life, and Harry turned away from them, planning to blast as many rocks as he could find.

He went to Hagrid's as the sun went down, his stomach growling for dinner but his brain wanting to avoid seeing anyone he knew. Of course, Ron had detention too, so that wasn't possible. Hagrid seemed to sense there was a bit of stiffness between the boys, because he kept blabbing on about new species' of weird animals he'd like to breed one day.

Harry walked with Fang, Hagrid's huge slobbering boarhound that would most likely run at the first sign of trouble. The undergrowth crunched beneath his feet, and he stepped over giant roots automatically, so deeply withdrawn into his own irritation that he barely registered where he was going.

First Hermione got on his back about being _cocky_ of all things, while saying in the same sentence that she _liked_ his cockiness (what the hell was a guy supposed to make of that?) and then started talking about him being insecure and acting like a different person – did she expect him to actually revert back to the mental state of an eleven-year-old, instead of just pretending to? And now Ron was all ticked off about Harry wanting some alone time – even though he had proven to be more than capable of looking after himself.

Stupid git.

He could have cast a Shield Charm big enough to beat the Slytherins without breaking a sweat. If Ron _knew_ – if _anyone_ knew just how dangerous he was with a wand, they wouldn't ever nag him about not having bodyguards everywhere he went. And who was watching Hermione's back while they were following him? Did they consider that? Then he remembered the comment about Fred and George looking after her, and felt even angrier that they had indeed considered it.

He was sick of this nonsense, he wanted to leave right now and destroy a Horcrux or two. His eleven-year-old brain was just getting side-tracked. All this messing around at school was a waste of time.

_Remember that these are our lives now, and we should still enjoy them while we can._

At first he thought Hermione was somehow shooting thoughts at him from a castle window, but then he realised it was his own voice in his mind. It made him grit his teeth.

When Harry and Ron returned from their meaningless patrol of the forest, they went up to bed without saying a word to each other. On Harry's bed, a long, slender package sat with a letter on top of it. Harry had forgotten about his role as Seeker, and about receiving the Nimbus Two Thousand from Professor McGonagall. It did little to lift his spirits. Part of the excitement the first time was sharing the unwrapping with Ron, but this time Ron had drawn his curtains as soon as he got into bed.

Harry ferociously tore open the letter, spying McGonagall's handwriting.

_Potter,_

_DO NOT OPEN THIS IN A PUBLIC PLACE._

_Given your recent altercation with Slytherin house, it would be unwise_

_to be too open about receiving this. They may interpret it as a reward_

_for fighting – which it absolutely is not. This is your new broom, a _

_Nimbus Two Thousand. Oliver Wood, our current Quidditch Captain,_

_will teach you the rules of the game at 7 o'clock on Monday._

_-Professor M. McGonagall_

He unwrapped the Nimbus and laid it out on his bed, running his fingers across the smooth wood as he did so. The Nimbus had been his prized possession for the first couple of years at Hogwarts, and seeing it again brought all those memories back. He hadn't fought with Ron in his first year, they had both gushed over the broom, deliriously happy. Hermione hadn't been their friend yet, and Harry supposed that was almost the same. Neville certainly hadn't been caught up in their strange group dynamic.

It all made him feel very old. And tired.

Spurred by a sudden desire to be in the air again, Harry took the Nimbus and crept out of the dormitory. In the spiral staircase leading down to the common-room, Harry drew his wand and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and his broom. He'd always been impressed by Dumbledore's claim that he didn't need a magic cloak to be invisible, but the truth was, anyone could learn to do the same if they practiced hard enough. The neo-Death Eaters had given him and Hermione a lot of reason to not be seen.

He left through the portrait hole without making a sound. "Who's that?" asked the Fat Lady sleepily.

Harry walked down the Grand Staircase, keeping his footsteps light as though he was hunting in a forest, listening for the terrified wheezing of a looter who'd bitten off more than he could chew…

He shook his head to dispel the image. Filch rounded the corner ahead of him. Without hesitating, Harry pressed himself against the wall. The grumbling caretaker tottered by obliviously. Harry kept moving once he was out of sight. Mrs Norris would probably pose more of an issue if he encountered her – the Charm didn't disguise his scent – but he was fortunate enough to make it to the Entrance Hall without issue.

Filch apparently hadn't returned to lock the main doors yet, so Harry slipped out into the night without having to use his wand. He was glad; there were probably charms on the lock that would detect anyone trying to tamper with it.

As soon as he had open sky above him, Harry mounted his broom and took off. He started slow, just an easy glide twenty feet above the ground. The air was cold, but he barely felt it. He was already miles away from his worries. There was no room for worries up here.

He leaned forward, picking up speed. The many turrets and towers of Hogwarts made for an excellent aerial obstacle course, and he weaved his way around the castle with ease. In this, at least, he felt he deserved the title of 'prodigy'. If ever there was a skill he would bet his life on, it was flying.

With the stars racing above, Harry rolled into a long, deep dive away from the castle, before levelling out to a few feet above the ground, heading for the lake once more. The water was disturbed by his presence, tracing a wake across the surface. There were moments when he couldn't tell where the lake ended and the sky began, the reflection was so perfect.

Off to his left, a big fleshy blob brushed against the surface before submerging itself again. Harry grinned. A tentacle rose out of the water and waved a little, and Harry waved back. The Giant Squid was feared by most first-years, but the older students knew it was harmless.

Harry pulled up into a completely vertical climb, shooting into the sky. He pulled it further, doing a loop, and then went even higher. The air was a lot colder up here, and the wind battered him about a little, but Harry hadn't felt so free in a long time.

Sooner or later, he'd have to come back down, but for now…

When the horizon began lightening, Harry was moving a lot slower, drifting pensively above the trees of the forbidden forest. His feet occasionally rustled against some leaves, and when he knocked a bird's nest out of place, he lifted it gently back up with his wand. He was tired, and a little sore from sitting on the broom all night, but it was a good tiredness, a peaceful kind.

He flew back to the main doors and landed lightly. As he stretched his legs, he wondered if he'd be able to get back to the dormitory without alerting anybody that he had left.

"A word of advice, Harry," said Dumbledore as he emerged from the closed door, his camouflage fading. Harry had been looking right at him! "Disillusionment Charms need to be refreshed or they start to fade."

Harry stood bolt upright, clutching his broom. "Uh, Professor, I was just–" At Dumbledore's smile, Harry just sighed and threw away the sudden list of convincing lies that had popped into his head. "I needed some time to think."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Believe me Harry, I understand. I must say I was impressed by the effectiveness of your Disillusionment Charm. That's a very complex spell for a first-year."

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "I've been reading ahead."

"I don't believe Disillusionment Charms on living things are in our curriculum at all," said the Headmaster. Harry was worried for a moment, but the twinkle in his eye was still there, so he probably didn't think Harry was up to no good.

"_Far_ ahead, Professor."

Dumbledore laughed merrily at that, and Harry joined him. He'd forgotten how much he'd missed that warm, comforting presence. Even in the later years, when they had gotten a bit strained at times, he'd never really believed Dumbledore would leave them… even if it was his choice.

His returning broodiness must have been visible, because Dumbledore traded his cheerfulness for an understanding gaze. "I know what it is like to be young and talented, Harry," the Headmaster said quietly. "If ever you require the advice, or even just the ears, of someone who understands, my office is always open to you."

_Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it._

"I'll remember that, Professor." Harry went to go through the doors, but his curiosity got the better of him and he turned back. "Er, Professor, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"How long were you watching?"

"You are not the only one who enjoys the peace and solitude of night. Rest assured, most people would never have seen you."

Harry frowned at the answer, and looked out across the grounds. His eyes shifted to the lake, and he got a small smile. "You saw the ripples on the lake, didn't you sir?"

Dumbledore laughed, delighted. "Indeed. Now, you had best return before anyone notices you are missing – you have a very tired day ahead of you. I would know."

Harry did as was suggested, noticing as he walked that his body and broom were barely a different shade from usual. Shrugging, he dispelled the charm rather than redoing it. It was morning now, there was no need to be overly secretive. He still hoped to get back to his bed and maybe get a quick hour in, but that didn't seem likely.

The sunrise had given him a new burst of energy, but he knew it was temporary. It was going to be a long day. The Fat Lady opened with a yawn and Harry went up to his bed, dropping his broom beside it and flopping on top of the covers.

"Have a fun flight?" said Ron snarkily from his bed, sitting up. "Must be nice getting expensive brooms bought for you. I s'pose that's just part of being a prodigy, isn't it?"

Harry raised his head, in no mood for an argument. "You're the only one who calls me a prodigy, Ron. You know that? I've never said I was."

Ron didn't reply, instead throwing back his covers and starting to get dressed. Harry let his head fall back to the bed, but there was no point. He was too annoyed to sleep, so he stood up and did his best to straighten his robes. In the end, they were so windswept that he used his wand to iron out the wrinkles. His clothes underneath weren't in much better shape, but Seamus and Dean were already heading down to breakfast with Ron, and Harry was starving from missing dinner last night.

In the Great Hall, Harry still sat with his friends, though there was an empty seat between him and them. It may as well have been a fifty foot wall. They talked among themselves, Ron doing an admirable impression of a person who didn't realise he was there, Neville looking uneasy about the whole situation, and Hermione constantly throwing glances in his direction. He hadn't felt any Legilimency from her, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

It seemed all of the peace he had felt at the end of his night-time flight had evaporated. Malfoy was making loud comments about 'poor lonely Potter' and speculating about which boy Hermione would go after next. "Probably Longbottom, she's already proven she has no taste," he laughed to the approval of his housemates. "Can't be Weasley – his family lives in a mud pit. But then, considering her family, I suppose that would be fitting." The Slytherins roared with laughter. Hermione's face was white with fury, and Ron looked about the same. Neville just looked resigned.

Harry tried to focus on eating, but his food tasted bitter. He just wanted to beat Malfoy into the ground again, to show him what happens when you insult Harry Potter and his friends.

_Hubris._

He didn't need to look up to know that was his own memory, not Hermione speaking in his mind. Why was confidence in his abilities a bad thing? He could out-duel every kid in the room, and probably most of the teachers. That wasn't hubris, that was the result of a dangerous life.

At seven o'clock on Monday, Harry met Oliver Wood on the Quidditch pitch. The Captain could sense his experience on the broom, and was in disbelief when Harry told him he hadn't played before. When they packed up the balls and walked back up to the school, Wood was almost skipping.

"They're dead," he said merrily. "Marcus Flint – he's the Slytherin Captain – doesn't have a team nearly as strong as ours. I can feel it, Harry! This is our year!"

Quidditch training, in combination with his frequent night-time flights, left him tired every day. He noticed he was getting dark patches beneath his eyes when he looked in the bathroom mirror, but he cared as little about his appearance as he did about the mountains of homework he worked through each night. It was all easy stuff, but that just made it more monotonous.

Ron still wasn't talking to him, though Neville gave him apologetic looks from time to time. Hermione looked more worried each day, and she now poked his passive defences every few minutes when they were together. It became so annoying that he lowered his defences a little to let her tendril of thought inside, only to harden them a moment later. This had the effect of forcibly ejecting her from his head, rather than just blocking entrance. He hoped it got across how thin his patience was. She didn't try again for a while, but she did leave several advanced spell books on his bed, probably as some sort of peace offering. He wasn't interested.

In Charms class on Hallowe'en morning, they were finally learning how to make things float. Harry felt no desire to pretend to struggle with such a simple Charm, and instead waited for Hermione to get it first, so she would take the brunt of Professor Flitwick's admiration. He quietly made his feather float to the same height as Hermione's.

"Oh, well done Potter as well!" Flitwick applauded. "But that's just what I've come to expect from you two!" The class didn't react as much as their first few lessons. They were used to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger showing everyone else up. By the end of the lesson, they were still the only people to have done it.

Hermione didn't go missing from their afternoon classes this time, but he knew she was thinking the same thing he was. Professor Quirrell was probably going to release a troll into the school as a distraction so he could attempt to reach the Philosopher's Stone. Harry was looking forward to it. He planned to slip away during the confusion at the feast and deal with the troll himself. That would set things straight to Hermione that he had good reason to be confident.

But as the magnificent Hallowe'en feast began, he couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking the same thing. The troll had almost killed her last time, maybe she wanted a bit of revenge. She would likely scold him for wanting the same thing, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd acted like that.

Harry looked up eagerly when he noticed Professor Quirrell sprinting into the hall. He wondered what would happen if he unravelled Quirrell's turban right there for everyone to see. No, no, the troll first.

As soon as Quirrell made his carrying announcement about the beast and flopped to the ground, Harry had his wand out. Hermione was looking at him with an alarmed expression, mouthing 'no', but he didn't care.

He almost reached over to see if Ron and Neville would come, before deciding better of it. He wouldn't need anyone this time, that was for certain. When the Prefects led their houses out of the hall, Harry doubled back and ducked into a side corridor. He was nearly spotted by Snape, only saved because the sallow-faced man wasn't looking in his direction.

Harry made a beeline for the girl's bathroom where they had fought it the first time, hoping that remained the same, and was rewarded with the pungent smell of troll sweat and filth. The ugly brute was lumbering down the corridor slowly, his eyes too poor to spot Harry at the other end.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Harry walked towards it. He wanted it to see him. His wand was raised and ready, all that was left was the moment of action. The troll stopped, noticing his movement. It was drooling a little, and the club it was dragging on the ground left a long scratch along the path it came from.

"_Reducto!_" Harry yelled, and the thick, grey hand holding the club suddenly exploded, splattering the wall with pale blood.

The troll roared. It lost any appearance of being slow and dumb with inarticulate rage crossing its face. It pounded towards him, the ground vibrating harder with each step. There was a trail of blood splats behind it now, picking up where the club left off.

Harry flicked his wand sharply, "_Diffindo!_" and a pink, milky slash crossed the troll's chest. It roared again, picking up speed.

It was getting dangerously close now, so Harry raised his wand a final time, preparing to end it. He thought _Diffindo_ at the same time as something smacked into his back, which threw his aim off, severing a suit of armour diagonally. Harry was caught between the desire to get out of the way of the rampaging troll and also see what had hit him, but his legs seemed stuck together.

Harry fell, desperately twisting to point his wand at his useless legs. "_Finite Incantatum!_" His legs were freed, but the troll was there, and its foot was coming down _hard…_

Harry regained consciousness for a few moments. The world was a dizzying whirlpool of pain. His chest felt like a great weight was lying upon it, though he couldn't see anything through his blurry, tear-filled eyes. He tried to inhale, but found he was unable to. There was no air in his lungs to scream with, either, and his last thoughts before blackness took him were full of terror.

The sound of voices woke him from a dreamless sleep. He found he was able to breathe again, though it hurt unless he kept each breath shallow. His arms and legs wouldn't respond, and he began to panic. He forced his eyes open, but they were too blurry to see anything but shapes.

"He's awake!" said a young voice – Hermione maybe?

Immediately, he felt himself being prodded, as well as the tingle of medical spells. "Harry? Can you move your right thumb, please?" said an adult. Harry strained as hard as he could, and managed to twitch his thumb a little. "Alright – conscious, reflexive, obeys instructions… Harry, can you speak?"

Harry tried to answer, but his mouth was so dry he couldn't do more than gasp. Someone held a cup up to his lips and he choked down some water. "It's alright," whispered the young voice soothingly. "You're alright, Harry…" He was almost certain it was Hermione, but he couldn't make out her face yet.

Swallowing painfully, Harry licked his parched lips. "I feel a lot more humble now," he croaked weakly.

The person who gave him water sniffed in a very Hermione-like way, and he felt lips press briefly against his cheek. "It only took a mountain troll to bring you to your senses," she said with a trace of haughtiness, but her voice wavered with worry.

"Someone cursed me," Harry mumbled, feeling himself drifting back into sleep. "Wanker."

The last thing he heard was Ron sniggering nearby, and he felt happy that his mate was with him.

This time, Harry regained awareness much faster. It no longer hurt to breathe, and he was able to feel his extremities. There was still a powerful ache in his chest, and when he tried to sit up, piercing pain forced him back down with a groan.

He realised he wasn't in the hospital wing with some alarm, but calmed as he noticed the familiar, perfectly clean architecture of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He figured he must be in the same ward that Arthur Weasley had once been in, in another time. First Floor was for creature-induced injuries, and getting stepped on by a troll certainly counted.

Harry's face burned as the memories of the last few weeks returned to him. He really had been an overconfident idiot, and this just proved it. Why hadn't he watched his back? Of course any Slytherin who saw him slip away might take the opportunity to get some unseen revenge. If he hadn't been so stupid and just killed or stunned the troll immediately, this would never have happened. He groaned again, but not from the pain.

_Hermione was right. I should have listened to her from the start._

At once, an unbidden memory of a memory shot to the front of his mind. A boy much like Harry, with glasses and messy black hair, constantly wearing a cocky smirk and playing with a snitch to show off in front of everyone. His father had been awful at that age, and Harry could remember the anger and disgust that his perfect idea of his father wasn't so accurate after all.

And yet, it had taken a crushing defeat for him to make the connection. As Harry lay there, feeling extremely foolish, he wondered if he had ever matured into an adult at all. It certainly didn't feel like it.

The Healer on duty came over to him, looking stern but pleased. "Ah, Potter, you're back with us. The pain should have improved by now." Harry started to reply, but choked on his dry throat. "You'll need plenty of fluids, that level of healing leaves a body quite exhausted." The Healer lifted a cup of water over to his mouth, but he insisted on holding it in his shaky hands.

"How bad was it?" he asked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and resting the cup on his lap.

"Bad enough that you were on the edge for a while there," she replied without a trace of sympathy. "Both arms broken, collarbone shattered, ribs broken and bent inwards, some bits of bone punctured your lungs – you were lucky your spine wasn't snapped like a twig." She shook her head. "And don't get me started about the blood loss and internal bleeding. You're damn lucky, Potter."

"Not lucky enough to have the brains to stay away from a rampaging troll," he said with bitter self-deprecation.

"Any fight you walk away from," she said wisely as she began waving her wand over him. It seemed feeling down about himself wasn't going to get any more sympathy than near-death had. Not that Harry felt he deserved it at the moment.

"How long have I been gone?"

"Four weeks."

"Bloody hell." He flopped his head back down on the pillow. "I missed the first Quidditch match of the year."

The Healer chuckled, which was startling coming from her lined, severe face. "That explains the Howler you were sent by a student named Oliver Wood."

Harry winced. "I s'pose that's what I deserve. I wonder if he's kicked me off the team by now."

"Self-pity won't fix your mistakes, Potter, action will." The Healer was back to business.

She was right, and Harry knew it. _Why does everyone else seem have a better grasp of common-sense than I do at the moment?_

Once her examinations were complete, she left the room to inform everyone. Harry was left to his own devices for fifteen minutes, so he spent the time working out the kinks in his muscles. He managed to sit up properly, gritting his teeth against the pain, but determined not to look defenceless to whoever came to see him next.

As it happened, he had quite a large visiting party. Dumbledore led the way, with McGonagall at his side, and Hermione, Ron, and Neville took up the rear, looking anxious. Harry smiled hesitantly at his friends, and Hermione immediately rushed to his side, holding his arm in a death grip.

"Hey there," he whispered, conscious of all the eyes on them.

"I swear, if you _ever_ try to fight a troll without us by your side again, I'll step on you myself!" she hissed, then hugged him.

"Ah, young love," said Dumbledore warmly. McGonagall looked substantially less amused.

"I don't think that's quite the lesson I want Potter to learn from this, Miss Granger," she said sternly, in much the same manner as the Healer.

"I think, given the severity of his injuries, Harry has learned a great deal," Dumbledore told her soothingly.

Harry nodded with a grimace. "I just wish it hadn't taken a near-death experience for me to realise what I twat I was being."

"You weren't that bad, mate," said Ron. He looked like he regretted speaking now that all eyes were on him. "Er… I just mean that… well, you'd had that argument with Hermione and you obviously didn't want to talk to anyone… we shouldn't have bothered you at the lake until you'd finished blowing off steam."

"I wondered where some of my favourite rocks had gone," Dumbledore mused, blue eyes sparkling through his half-moon spectacles.

Harry blushed. He really didn't want to have this sort of conversation under that gaze. "I, uh, still flew off the handle though." He scratched the back of his head, wincing at the pain of moving that far. "Look, let's just call it even, I hate these kind of conversations." Ron nodded quickly, clearly thinking the same thing.

Neville coughed a little. "I didn't have a problem with you Harry, I just figured you needed space."

Harry grinned at him, and the round-faced boy returned it with gusto. "Thanks, Neville."

McGonagall looked a little appeased, but she clearly still had a point to make. "I want you to know that as soon as it became clear you were going to be okay, I took twenty points from Gryffindor for such foolish bull-headedness." Harry nodded soberly, and her expression softened. "However, given the speed at which your friends arrived to help you, and the fact that they did so despite not being on good terms with you, they each earned ten points."

Eyes widening, Harry sat up a little straighter. "What happened? Did you catch whoever got me with that Leg-Locker Curse?"

Hermione shook her head angrily. "I thought I saw a green-trimmed robe disappear around the corner just as we arrived, but before I knew it was important, I saw you with the troll." Her face lost its anger, and she looked close to tears. "It was _awful_, Harry. I got the troll off you as quick as I could, and teachers arrived a second later."

"It _felt_ awful," Harry agreed. "How did you deal with the troll?"

"You'd already done most of the work – it was losing a lot of blood – so I just… finished it off."

"That's one way of putting it," snorted Ron. "As soon as she saw you, she was shouting a hundred words I didn't understand, and the troll was… well, there wasn't much left of it by the time the teachers arrived." He shook his head in disbelief. "It was _mental_. Neville and I didn't even really do anything."

Hermione flushed, but she held her chin high. "You watched my back," she said firmly. The boys stood a little taller, if a little redder too.

Dumbledore watched the whole exchange with clear approval, and now that McGonagall was satisfied, he left with her, leaving Harry with his friends for a few minutes.

Harry felt like he still had a lot to apologise for, but he knew going on about it would just make his friends feel awkward. "We need to start training as soon as I get back to school," he said instead.

"We already started," said Ron. "Turns out you were kinda one of the reasons we hadn't been attacked in the corridors yet. Without you around, Neville and I were getting hexed from class to class." They both looked a bit miserable at the memory.

"Those pricks," growled Harry.

"Oh – don't worry, Harry, they haven't done anything in about a week," said Neville. "Hermione taught us both some basic spells and now they don't mess with us as much."

"She's also teaching us – what was it, again? Occo-something?" Ron scratched his head.

Harry looked at Hermione, who seemed a bit nervous about his reaction. "Brilliant," he said, and she beamed.

"We're not very good at it yet," Neville added, "But two days ago, I got told off by Snape and I didn't even start shaking. It's really handy for staying calm."

"Ron told me about your idea for a self-defence class," Hermione added. "I've worked out a good curriculum that McGonagall should approve of. I also think we should do a quick revision session at the start of each class, so that any new members won't be left behind."

"You've been busy," Harry said, rather proud.

"You were gone for almost the whole month. You didn't think I'd spend it moping around, waiting for you to come back, did you?" Hermione said with a decidedly un-Hermione-like cheeky smile.

They talked about the Quidditch match for a bit, with Ron warning him to avoid Oliver Wood until he was in good enough shape to duel again. "You should've heard him in the common-room. 'Course he didn't say anything until we found out you were gonna live – even he's not that mad, I s'pose – but once Dumbledore told everyone the good news, it was like the cork came out of the bottle." According to Fred and George, Ron said, Wood hadn't lost it like this before, even when Slytherin flattened Gryffindor in the last match of the previous year.

"But then," Ron said reasonably, "They also said the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin has never been this intense. People are eyeing each other in the corridors, fingering their wands. There's a fight every other day now."

"I bet the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are enjoying the show," Neville said with a wry grin.

McGonagall came to collect them after half an hour, and they left hoping Harry would get well soon. For his part, Harry felt much better. There were still some physical kinks that needed to be worked out, but having everything sorted out with his friends put his mind at ease.

After all, Christmas was only a couple of weeks away, and from what Hermione had mentally told him during the visit, they might be on the offensive far sooner than expected…

**A/N**

**They're under a lot of restrictions, being children and stuck in school, so for now they're forced to stick to the original events as best they can. Of course, as we can see, things are starting to deviate more than they expect.**

**I'm several chapters ahead, so feel free to point out any flaws you find so I can fix them before I go too far.**

**Also, if you're an experienced proofreader, send me a PM! My own eyes are pretty good, but you can never be too careful.**


	4. Chapter 3: Christmas and Combat Training

**Chapter 3: Christmas Presents and Combat Training**

Harry felt stronger every day. They were a week into December when the Healer in charge of him finally decided he was well enough to return to school. He felt a little wiser after the troll incident, and the scars on his chest and arms served as a constant, humbling reminder of his mistake. The Healer hadn't apologised for being unable to remove them, since they had been too busy trying to stabilise him to worry about permanent scarring, but he didn't want her to.

His school robes had been brought to him, and he eagerly slipped them on, doing his best to hide the twinge of pain that shot through his chest when he twisted to put his arms through the sleeves. If the Healer, whose name was Madeline Maple, thought he was still in the slightest bit of discomfort, he'd be trapped for another week.

All in all, he was surprised that he'd recovered so quickly from such a brutal injury. He supposed he only felt like it had been quick because he'd been unconscious for most of it. Late at night, he'd practiced a few wand movements to make sure his wrist was still limber, and while he was a little stiff at first, years of muscle memory eventually overtook a month of inactivity. He was confident enough in his ability to hold off whatever plans Malfoy might have in store for him, though of course he wasn't going to leave his group behind this time.

He was almost certain Malfoy was the one who got him with the Leg-Locker Curse; he must have seen Harry double back and followed him, and then waited for the right moment to strike. Harry lost any misgivings he had about dealing with either Draco or Lucius; they might have changed sides in the end, but that was only after they fell out of Voldemort's favour, not because it was the right thing to do. He'd avoided thinking about what exactly 'neutralise high-ranking Death Eaters' would entail, but now he felt no misgivings.

It was a little sad to think that he and Hermione were going to have to actually hunt people down while they were still 'young', but if they did it right, nobody would realise they had any connection to the killings. They probably wouldn't go straight for Malfoy Manor, though. There were plenty of liars out there who pretended to have been under the Imperius Curse in order to avoid Azkaban. This time, they wouldn't get to go on one last rampage across the land. It was the right thing to do. It _was_.

McGonagall collected him from St Mungo's at midday, and they used a temporary connection to the Floo Network to arrive in the Gryffindor common-room. Harry was small enough that he just stumbled out and fell onto the couch, but poor McGonagall had to exit while crouched. She stood up and adjusted her robes with dignity. Harry straightened his glasses and picked himself up.

"I hope you appreciate the lengths we've gone to for you, Potter," she said, a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

"I do, Professor. I'd be happy to sponsor a taller fireplace as a thank-you gift." He managed to keep a straight face under her unimpressed gaze.

"I'll take that comment as a sign that you're ready to catch up on the work you've missed?"

"There's nothing I'd like more."

After a moment, McGonagall chuckled. "I suppose that's not much of a threat for you, is it?" She swept over to the portrait hole. "Good to have you back, Potter," she added kindly before leaving.

The common-room was empty since everyone was probably down at lunch, and Harry wasn't sure what he should do. He went up to the dormitory and found his bed perfectly made, with his Nimbus resting against the wall. He much preferred his four-poster to the hospital bed.

A surge of guilt hit him when he noticed the advanced spell books Hermione had left on his bed. He opened one and a little note fell out. The handwriting was unmistakeably hers.

_Only Harry James Potter may read me._

Amused, Harry tapped the note with his wand. "I am Harry James Potter."

The words vanished, much like the Marauder's Map (which might have been where she got the idea), and were replaced by a longer message.

_Harry – _

_I know you're unhappy with me right now, but I want you to know_

_that I said what I did because I love who you are, and I don't want_

_you to change yourself for no good reason. I know we've both_

_changed a lot in the last few years, and coming back here has  
><em>

_been very confusing, but please realise that you don't_

_have to prove yourself all over again, especially not to me._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Please read these books in public places occasionally. _

_That way, if you slip up and use magic too advanced for a _

_first-year, you'll have an excuse, mister 'Prodigy'_

_(why does Ron call you that?)_

Harry sighed, wishing he'd read the note sooner. But then, he'd been in such a state that he probably would have just ignored the contents. Drawing his wand, he set fire to the corner of the note and watched the paper slowly curl and crumble.

But just as the fire was about to reach the end of the message, he stopped it. Without really thinking about why he was doing it, he carefully cut out the little _Love, Hermione_ and slipped it into his trunk, beneath some of Dudley's old socks. The rest of the note was then promptly incinerated, leaving no trace.

He picked up the books and headed down to the common-room again, of the mind to do a little pretend reading.

Harry had just turned one of the squashy chairs into a pig when the first Gryffindors started returning from lunch. Since it was Saturday, there were no classes and many people would probably be outside trying to get a little sun before the snow arrived. To his relief, it seemed most of them didn't hold the Quidditch loss against him, and many greeted him warmly.

When Oliver Wood came in, he looked startled to find Harry on the couch. Harry opened his mouth to apologise, but before he got two words out, Wood held up a hand to stop him. "Too soon," he whispered, his voice cracking, before going to the other side of the room.

"Don't worry, Harry," said the Weasley twins, who had returned with Wood.

"Once you actually play in a game, he'll forget he was ever angry," George reassured him.

"So I'm still on the team?" Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"Of course you are," laughed Fred, "Wood's not dumb enough to throw away a good Seeker just because he's a little trampled."

The chair-turned-pig was wandering around the room now, and the girls were talking about how cute it was while boys tried to keep it from chewing on their books. Somebody wrapped a Gryffindor scarf around it, bringing a chorus of _awws_.

Percy chose that moment to enter the common-room. "Who – who let a pig in here? How did it get here?" he spluttered.

"It's a head-scratcher, to be sure," said George cheerfully.

"But nothing our Fearless Prefect can't figure out," Fred continued, slapping Percy on the back.

"You two! Where did it come from?" Percy's hair was slightly ruffled now.

"Wrong guess, chief. It was here when we got here."

"They're telling the truth," confirmed Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, two of Gryffindor's Chasers.

"Does _anyone_ know where it came from?" Percy said loudly. When nobody answered, he went red in the face. "I'll be talking to Professor McGonagall about this!" He stormed out.

"Out of curiosity, who _did_ put the pig here?" called Fred. Harry caught his eye and winked. "Well, whoever it was, brilliant work!"

Hermione arrived soon after, and she parked herself on the couch next to Harry. "I'm glad you're back! We can finally get to work on the training together."

"And here I thought you missed my company," Harry replied with mock bitterness.

She leaned across and pecked his cheek. "I think that goes without saying."

Harry hoped she wasn't watching his memory of what he did with the note she left him.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione gave him a long-suffering smile.

"So where are Ron and Neville? Shouldn't we be watching their backs?" he changed the subject.

"They're still eating. For that matter," she poked his stomach, "You could use a meal or two as well."

"I'll survive until dinner."

The truth was, he was hungry, but he didn't want to make a scene by arriving out of nowhere. Better to wait for the Hogwarts rumour mill to tell everyone he was back so it wasn't a surprise.

"That's a terrible reason for not eating," Hermione said sternly

Harry hardened his passive defences, pushing her out of his head. "I can't even feel it when you do that now," he whispered. "Can Occlumency skill fade over time?"

"It's not your fault. I'm so familiar with your mind now that I can get inside without touching anything that would alert you." She looked a bit sheepish. "I should have told you. But," she held up a finger to defend herself, "It wouldn't work if you weren't comfortable with my presence in your mind. It takes time to build the kind of trust that leads to this level of Legilimency."

"I didn't even know that was possible. That's… incredible."

"If you let me teach you some Legilimency, we could–"

"No."

Hermione was exasperated. "I know you don't like it because of Snape, but it would be so useful if we both knew it!"

"I said no, Hermione," Harry repeated firmly. "I don't want to invade other people's minds. It's… not right."

"Then why don't you care that I do it?"

"Because," Harry grasped for the right words, "Well, you're… Hermione. I know you're not doing for entertainment or sick pleasure."

"But you don't know whether you'd do the same?"

The question made Harry uncomfortable. He could see himself falling all-too-easily into the habit of scanning people's minds on a whim, learning all of their secrets, their fears… "I'd rather avoid the option altogether."

Hermione sighed, but she didn't press the issue any further. They spent some time going over the self-defence class plans, making little adjustments where needed. Harry raised the point that many students would be dubious about being instructed by first years, and suggested that they spend some of the first classes sparring anyone who asks, just to get a reputation.

"I think most already know you can duel," Hermione said dryly. "Nobody's forgotten the lake fight."

"But Ron and Neville said they were getting hexed a lot – they'll need to prove themselves to everyone again." Hermione went quiet for a little bit. "What? What's wrong?"

"Don't you think we're escalating things a little early?" she whispered. "We didn't start the DA until our fifth year."

"Yeah, but the rivalry with Slytherin wasn't nearly this intense last time. We're adapting to the situation."

"I suppose… it's just that – well, if we change too many things, we'll lose our biggest advantage. I know for a fact that you're planning to break out Sirius if he doesn't do it himself – don't look at me like that – which could throw everything else out of order." Her mouth twisted distastefully. "And that's not even mentioning how we're going to deal with Wormtail." Neither of them were particularly pleased about the horrible man sleeping in Ron's bed every night, but they had yet to think of a solid plan for dealing with him.

"Well, you're going to find out how much flexibility we have over Christmas, aren't you? If we're lucky, we might be able to spend the summer break getting a lot of work done. I've even had thoughts about stealing the diary early…"

Ron and Neville chose that time to arrive in the common-room, chatting loudly about Shield Charms.

"See, I got the hang of _making_ the shield really easily," said Ron modestly. "But I can barely keep it up while spells are smacking into it. I have to concentrate so hard that I just forget about anything else; you could just walk up behind me and punch me in the head."

"At least yours doesn't waver before spells even start hitting it," Neville replied glumly. "I have to use the Occlumency thing just so I don't drop my wand."

"You'll get it, mate – hey, Harry's back!" They came over to the couch and sat down heavily, looking rather full. Harry was happy to see them getting along so well.

"Is this the plan for the classes?" Neville picked up the loose bits of parchment.

"Yes, Harry and I were just going over it. Do you two see anything that needs changing?" Hermione handed over the sheet she was working on and reclined back.

"'Instructors must accept all sparring challenges for the first three classes', what's that about?"

"We four are basically the core of this thing, so we all have to prove we know how to duel."

Ron looked mortified. "Harry, you said I wasn't going to be a teacher."

"You're not," assured Harry. "But you are sorta the 'advanced class' since you've been training with Hermione, and people will want to know that the work pays off."

"So we have to fight anyone who asks?" Neville swallowed noisily.

"Yes, but classes won't start until after Christmas, so you'll have plenty of time to train until then."

"I'll be here, my parents are going to Romania to visit Charlie," said Ron.

Neville looked a bit unsure. "My gran wants me to come home for Christmas, but maybe I can convince her to let me stay."

"How's the Occlumency going?" Harry asked casually.

"It's _hard_," said Ron. "I don't know how we're supposed to get any good at it."

"I like it," Neville added quietly. "Any time I hear somebody talk about me… you know, saying bad stuff, I can just go into my head and it stops bothering me."

"That's kinda how I started doing it," said Harry, as Neville was looking uncomfortable about admitting he was bullied. At his hopeful expression, Harry continued. "By accident, I mean. I grew up with my aunt and uncle, and they hate magic. They told me my parents died in a car crash, and basically treated me like dirt. I learned to do Occlumency without realising it, so I could escape from them. I only realised what it was after Hermione told me she could do it too." Ron and Neville looked appalled by his story, and turned to Hermione, probably expecting another tale of awful Muggle relatives.

"My parents didn't give me a lot of privacy," she said softly. "I was barely allowed out of their sight until I got my Hogwarts letter, and even then I had to beg them to let me come. All I wanted was some solitude, some time to myself. So, growing up, I slowly developed a sort of 'private room' in my head that nobody could get inside. When I came to Hogwarts, I stumbled across the description of Occlumency in a book, and I realised I could already do it." Her cheeks went pink. "Of course, that's not as bad as living with awful relatives or being bullied, but it's how it went for me."

"Blimey," Ron said hoarsely. "No wonder I'm not getting anywhere with it. My family seems like a bunch of saints, now."

The group was silent for a few awkward seconds.

"Is that a pig?" asked Neville.

* * *

><p>As Christmas neared and the school was coated in snow, Harry found himself surprisingly anxious. Hermione was going to be testing something while she was away for the holidays, and the results could change how they approached the entire situation.<p>

Late one evening, after a training session with Neville and Ron, Harry and Hermione were relaxing in the common-room after the other students had gone to bed. The fact that the two Gryffindor geniuses had a chat every night was known to everyone, with most believing it was a flimsy disguise for snogging. The sound of Gryf the pig's soft snoring filled the room.

Harry blinked and realised he'd been reading the same sentence for ten minutes now. He groaned and rubbed his eyes tiredly. After a moment, he closed the book. He wasn't going to get any further tonight, and re-reading spell books was very tedious. Instead, he shuffled along the couch to Hermione, who was scribbling furiously in one of her notebooks.

"What are you working on?" he asked, frowning as he realised he couldn't read any of the words. They were English, but his mind just couldn't seem to find meaning in them.

"Even a memory palace can fade over time. I'm re-writing all of my notes from before so I don't forget." She didn't look at him, her quill flying across the page.

"And if someone steals them?"

"Harry, give me a little credit. They're under several layers of magical concealment charms, each Undetectable. If they are somehow penetrated, my notebooks will reveal the vapid, inane diary of Harry Potter's girlfriend. The pages are full of poems, love hearts, and long, rambling entries detailing how cute you are." Harry's eyebrows rose with every word, and Hermione laughed at his expression. "Of course, that's a red-herring. There are quite a few embarrassing things in there, and anyone searching for secrets will believe they have found them. Only if they somehow detect and break through a further set of very subtle spells will they find what's actually written there."

Hermione's smile was devilish as she continued. "Only to find the words are coded, not with magic, but with Muggle cryptography, a code that requires a key that is located in one place and one place only." She tapped her forehead.

Harry was impressed, to say the least. "You're amazing, you know that?" She blushed, and his heart gave a little jolt, surprising him. "What am I even here for? You could do this whole thing on your own," he continued with a chuckle, rubbing his chest.

"I can plan and research and cover the details, but you're the one who charges in and gets the job done." With a chuckle, she muttered to herself, "Most of the time."

"Hey now, if that's about the troll, I think I've learned my lesson." Harry still winced with pain if he twisted his torso too suddenly, and the scars reminded him every time he bathed.

Hermione put away her notebook and snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I wasn't talking about the troll." It made Harry uncomfortable how nice she felt.

Thankfully, the portrait-hole opened to admit Professor McGonagall, forestalling any more thoughts down that vein. "Ah, Potter, Granger, I had a feeling you'd still be awake," she said, watching them quickly separate and stand up.

"Is there something we can help you with, Professor?" asked Hermione.

"I was wondering why you have yet to bring the plans for this self-defence class to me. I had thought that, upon Potter's return to school, it would be among your priorities."

"It is, Professor. We've finished the plans, we were just holding off until after Christmas so we could train a little more. After all, students will be doubtful of a group of first-years trying to teach them magic."

"Very well. May I inspect the plans in advance?" Hermione rifled through her bag and pulled out the bits of parchment. "Thank you. Now, I would suggest you both go to bed. I don't know how you dodged the prefects again, but lights-out was an hour ago."

Harry had told Hermione about his talk with Dumbledore, and after she finished berating him for using advanced magic, she had been delighted that they had an excuse to use Disillusionment Charms. They were particularly useful for avoiding nosy prefects.

As Harry climbed into bed, he debated whether to go on a late-night flight again. Now that he was friends with everyone again, the flights had become more of a relaxation ritual than an escape from his problems. Some of the most peaceful memories he had were drifting slowly across the lake, trailing his fingers in the water. If Dumbledore still watched him, he hadn't said anything.

In the end, he decided he was too tired to stay on his broom, and fell asleep in minutes.

Harry went down to breakfast with Ron and Neville and a promise from Hermione that she wouldn't wander about. Considering the pile of books she was going through, Harry doubted she'd feel the need to go exploring alone. After a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, they returned to the common-room with some toast and juice for their bushy-haired friend.

Hermione was grateful, but she gave one of the pieces of toast to the Gryf the pig, who still wandered the common-room, snuffling at people's bags. "I don't think you're eating enough," said Harry.

"It's just a little toast, Harry. You're worse than my mother." Hermione continued to read with no sign that she'd been interrupted. "Nice pig, by the way," she added under her breath.

"Thanks," he grinned.

With the holidays so close, Harry supposed it was inevitable that the Slytherins would try to get a little revenge in before their time off. When Fred Weasley came back from a bathroom visit with a black eye and a scowl that his twin immediately mirrored, Harry decided it was time to get their own back.

"That's a shiny eye you have there," Harry told Fred cheerfully that afternoon.

"Thanks, I grew it myself."

"Who did it?"

Fred's scowl deepened. It seemed unnatural on his face. "Didn't see. Ruddy coward came at me from behind. I turned, and got socked in the face."

"No magic?" asked Hermione.

"Nope. I s'pose fists are more satisfying for them, the gits."

"That's not it." Harry felt like kicking himself. "Back when they were trying to frame me for the duel down at the lake, I brought up the fact that spells can be traced to wands. They're trying to avoid leaving a trail by not even using wands at all," he explained.

"That sounds like Slytherin thinking alright," nodded George with an identical scowl.

"Physical violence leaves traces too," Hermione added quietly. They all looked at her. "How hard were you hit?" she asked Fred.

"Hard enough to send me stumbling into the wall." That was saying something. The twins might not be as burly as their older brother Charlie, but they were Beaters. They could take a hit.

"The attacker probably has bruises or cuts on their knuckles from where they impacted your cheekbone and brow."

"So, what, we go down to the dungeons and ask to inspect their nails?" asked Ron.

"No. _I_ don't think we should do anything." Hermione turned back to her book. "But Harry's the one grinning like a madman, so why don't you ask him?"

"This is a four-person operation," Harry said, lowering his voice and leaning in. The other boys did the same, and slowly, they started grinning too.

That evening, four shapes stood motionless against the wall in a side corridor near the dungeons. Every single Gryffindor would swear that these particular shapes were in the common-room, in full sight of everyone. In fact, there was no evidence to suggest that these four shapes were standing in the corridor at all.

When Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle came down this corridor, taking his usual shortcut from the Great Hall to the dungeons, he was completely unaware of the four extra sets of eyes watching him.

There were two quiet flashes of red light, and Malfoy walked a few more metres before noticing that his companions were no longer beside him. When he saw them lying on the ground behind him, he drew his wand, only for it to fly out of his fingers. Another flash of red light later, he joined his friends on the floor.

The four shapes were barely noticeable; it was almost as if they had some sort of camouflage on them. When they converged on the three unconscious Slytherins, their bodies rippled and shifted to match their background.

Harry was the one to check Malfoy's fists, though he didn't really expect the pale boy to get his hands dirty. George kept checking something held under his Disillusioned robes. When he mysteriously claimed he'd know if trouble was coming, only Harry and Hermione weren't surprised.

"Goyle," Ron said venomously, holding up Goyle's raw, meaty knuckles.

"Well, that saves us the trouble of checking every big Slytherin. How'd you know it'd be them, Harry?" asked Neville. He had been the most reluctant to enlist on the operation, but now that he was on the job, he seemed a lot more in control.

"It's always them," Harry replied darkly.

"Fair point," Ron agreed. "What now?"

"George?" Harry hissed. "This is your moment. Get ready." The twin looked once more at the thing under his robes, then crouched over Goyle. Harry pointed his wand at the Slytherin's chest. "_Enervate._"

Goyle opened his eyes, looking dazed. George snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Hey there, sunshine. Don't worry, you're going to be okay. Just tell me, does it hurt when I do this?" And with that, George punched Goyle in the same place Fred had been hit. It sounded like the Weasley had smacked a ham.

Goyle seemed to grasp the situation as he nursed his eye. "Who're you? Gryffindors?" he spat.

"Never you mind," George said quietly, at the same time Ron said, "Damn straight."

Goyle smirked. "Weasleys. I can get you done for this. Draco said you's can't attack us 'cause of pry-oree-incantum. And we got memories too, that's what a penseevie is for."

Damn. Harry had hoped they wouldn't remember that one. "George, keep an eye out." The twin immediately looked inside his robes again. "Are you sure you'll remember everything?" he asked Goyle.

"I know your voice, Potter. You're done, you and your blood-traitor mates. I won't forget."

"Wanna bet?" Harry stunned Goyle unconscious and steadied his wand. "_Obliviate."_ He took away the last few minutes until just before Goyle was stunned the first time. Stepping over the body, he did the same to the two other Slytherins. Then, after confirming with George that they still had a little time, he levitated the bodies into standing positions, Malfoy in front, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. "_Enervate_ on my mark."

Harry refreshed their Disillusionment Charms out of paranoia, and the four shapes took their places against the wall once more. With a start, Harry darted out and stuffed Malfoy's wand back into his green-trimmed pocket.

"Good thinking, Harry," whispered George.

"Three, two… mark!" Harry hissed, and the Slytherins stood there for a moment, looking around.

Malfoy regained his composure and led his cronies down the corridor as though nothing had happened. With no evidence to say otherwise, other than the shiner Goyle was sporting that nobody had noticed, the henchmen followed.

The four shapes followed George back to the common-room, somehow avoiding teachers and students alike. It was almost as though the twin knew in advance where everyone was going to be.

"Not a word to anyone," Harry cautioned. "No boasting or anything." His fellow operators nodded, though they were all smiling.

Only when they reached the hallway before the Fat Lady did they stop. On cue, Fred walked up from the direction of the Grand Staircase, whistling a Weird Sisters song. When the Fat Lady swung forward, obscuring her view of the hallway, four shapes dashed forward and leapt through the portrait hole. Harry swiftly removed the Disillusionment Charms, but nobody was even looking their way.

The group casually made their way over to the couch and chairs in front of the fire, where Hermione and Fred were chatting idly. George only had to give his twin a grin for him to know the mission was a success. Hermione looked a little like the caretaker of a bunch of kids as the boys exchanged proud glances.

"Feel better now?" she asked.

"Yes, actually," the twins replied simultaneously.

"That was so exciting!" Neville struggled to keep his voice down. Now that they were out of danger, his face was flushed with the realisation of what they'd done. Harry wondered if he had been using his primitive Occlumency to keep it together.

"How did you know nobody was coming, George?" asked Harry. He knew the answer perfectly well, he just wanted to see how they would dodge the question.

"The Weasleys have ways, Harry m'boy," Fred grinned.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore popped another sherbet lemon into his mouth. Professor McGonagall sat across from him. She always refused sweets, and this time was no different. Her lined face seemed caught between pride and worry.<p>

"And you are certain it was him?" he asked calmly.

"I would not bring it to you if I wasn't." Her tone was a little cool, and he regretted questioning her. Minerva McGonagall wasn't a time-waster.

"Such news is in keeping with what we've seen of the boy so far."

"But a pig, Albus?" McGonagall said. "It was a perfect example of Transfiguration. The pig is flawless – they seem to have even turned it into a house pet. I have never met a first-year who could manage such magic."

"And now you have." Albus had another sweet. "His parents were both very talented – I recall Lily had particular skill with Charms, and James was talented in Transfiguration - not mention he spent more time duelling than studying. Is it so strange that their son has inherited their gifts?"

"I suppose not…" McGonagall was still clearly having trouble accepting it.

"Minerva," he said softly, "I spoke to the boy during one of my night-time walks. He knows he is talented, but he is troubled by it. I believe he fears that his talent will push his friends away. Despite my wishes, he has had a very lonely childhood, and doesn't want to retreat into himself again." _That_ had been a surprise. The boy was a natural Occlumens, as was Miss Granger. Just another aspect of this extraordinary child. "The troll incident proved how his judgement was impaired when cut off from his friends."

"I don't intend to confront him, Albus. I have no desire to watch one of my students be ostracised."

"Then what _do_ you intend? I see no issue here that we can resolve." Dumbledore clasped his hands together.

McGonagall grimaced. "His self-defence class is bound to provoke open hostility between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Well, _more_ open hostility."

"The class is not barred to anyone, is it? Age, house, hair colour?"

"No."

"Then I see no reason for the Slytherins to find it provocative. In any case, I shall share your concern with Severus."

"Thank you, Albus." McGonagall took a sweet, if grudgingly.

* * *

><p>The holidays began, and Gryffindor Tower was far emptier than usual. Harry, Ron, and Neville trained after breakfast every day, and spent the rest of the day enjoying the quiet warmth of the common-room. The boys were getting much better at Shield Charms, and their stunners hit the target more often than not.<p>

In the evenings, games of wizard chess and exploding snap kept them in good spirits despite the icy chill outside. Fred and George were particularly chirpy, and they kept dropping hints that they were always up for another operation if Harry needed them. Harry kept them in mind; the Marauder's Map was invaluable for Hogwarts-based missions. He hoped they still decided to give it to him in two years' time.

Every time the post came, Harry would look up excitedly, but there was still no word from Hermione. The others always poked fun at him for not even lasting a week without worrying about her. Of course, they didn't know what he knew. Hermione's experiment could go wrong if she wasn't careful. Maybe he should have done it instead… but then they'd have to wait until Harry went home for the summer, and that was too far away.

In her absence, he was useless at meditating. Without her calm voice whispering instructions, he couldn't relax properly. Instead, he began reading some her books during meditation time. She seemed to have taken out half the library in an effort to cover any accidental advanced magic she performed. Harry supposed he should have done the same in advance.

He was still surprised by the lack of response from creating Gryf the pig. Percy said he told McGonagall, and the Professor herself had inspected it, but there were no warnings of tampering with school property or using magic outside of class. He had the sneaking suspicion she knew it was him or Hermione, though he wasn't sure why.

The house elves had started bringing Gryf food at regular times throughout the day, and someone had thrown a pile of blankets next to the wall for him to sleep on. It was one of the most amusing differences between the past and present.

On Christmas morning, Harry was relieved to find Mrs Weasley had sent him a jumper. He'd been worried that his foolish behaviour with the troll would make her think he was a bad influence on Ron, but that clearly wasn't the case.

He tore through the small pile of presents gleefully, chatting with Ron all the while. He made sure to make all the right remarks and appreciative noises, but there was one gift he was looking most forward to.

The Invisibility Cloak.

While Ron looked it over, his jaw hanging open, Harry read the note.

_This was your father's, entrusted to me before his death._

_He would want you to have it. Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

Harry felt a surge of warmth in his heart at finally having his cloak back. It was part of him, his most reliable tool and most treasured possession. Even with Disillusionment Charms, he was glad to have it back.

Christmas Day was the one day in the holidays that Harry didn't worry about Hermione. There was no time, everyone was caught up in laughing, sharing their presents, eating at the magnificent feast. Even the few Slytherins that remained at Hogwarts seemed too absorbed in their own fun to bother the Gryffindors.

That night, Harry considered visiting the Mirror of Erised, but found he didn't want to know what his heart desired more than anything. Instead, he decided it would still be his family, and nothing more. He slept restlessly that night.

Instead of worrying about Nicolas Flamel or the Mirror, Harry focused himself entirely on training Ron and Neville. The holidays were nearly over, and their skills would be put to the test soon. The boys seemed to be thinking the same thing, and admirably threw themselves into the work.

When they sparred, Harry didn't coddle them. He only used spells that they knew out of fairness, but he used every ounce of speed and power he could, breaking through shields and sending them flying with stunners.

After _enervating_ Neville for the thirteenth time that session, the boy rubbed his forehead. "Do you have to be so brutal, Harry? I don't feel like I'm learning much by getting blasted backwards constantly." Ron nodded feverishly; he wasn't enjoying this trial by fire any more than Neville.

"I'm fighting as hard as I can using the spells we'll be first teaching people in the class," Harry explained. "You're both getting quicker, more agile, and better at casting on the move. By the time people start challenging you, you'll be so used to facing an unforgiving opponent that their movements will seem sluggish, their spells weak. Trust me, this might be painful, but you'll come out of it far better than before." They seemed to accept that, if a little wearily, and the training continued.

The day before term started, Hermione returned. Harry tripped over in his haste to greet her, much to the amusement of Ron and Neville. Hermione was grinning as they hugged and went through the motions of catching up. She watched an impromptu sparring session between Neville and Ron in the common-room, and was impressed by their speed and accuracy. For that matter, the boys were surprised at how difficult it was to beat each other.

Harry and Hermione finally had a private moment when the two master-duellists-in-training left to find Fred and George and demonstrate their new skills.

As soon as the portrait hole closed, Harry turned expectantly to Hermione. "It worked," she said simply.

"Are you certain?" Harry felt fit to burst with energy. This was going to change _everything_.

"Positive. I performed 'under-age' magic no less than three times while away, but I haven't received _any_ warnings. One of the spells was even fairly complicated, and more than powerful enough to be detected through the Trace."

"But how did this happen? How can the Trace be broken if these bodies are eleven?" Harry whispered.

"Perhaps the Trace doesn't measure age by our physical forms. Otherwise, an aging potion would be able to fool it." Hermione pursed her lips. She looked very cute when thinking. "It may measure the age of our minds, since they cannot be manipulated so easily," she continued, cheeks red.

"What about our souls?" Harry asked curiously. It had bothered him, wondering if there were other side effects to their traversal of the time stream.

Hermione shook her head. "Messing with souls is a little too far, I think. Besides, our souls merged with our younger ones; there should still be a trace of the Trace if that was the case."

Harry agreed. "I'll need to test it myself in the summer, just in case."

She nodded in approval. "And if we're both free to use magic outside of school, well, we can get to work a lot sooner."

"Exactly." Lucius Malfoy was a dead man.

Hermione looked at him sharply. "I thought we agreed that he was not going to be the first target?"

"I've changed my mind. He has the diary, and he causes a load of problems. Prevention is better than treating the symptoms, don't you think?"

"We'll talk about it," she said as the Weasleys and Neville returned.

"Harry," said Fred. "We want in on this duelling business." George nodded as well. Ron and Neville were looking a bit smug.

"We'll be running a self-defence class soon. You can sign up for it, if you want," said Harry.

The twins grinned manically at their younger brother. "We might just do that." Ron stopped looking smug.

Term began, and with it came the defence class and Quidditch practice. Wood seemed to have calmed down considerably, and Harry made sure to bring his best to every practice so Wood wouldn't be able to tell him off. Indeed, as the weeks wore on, Wood slowly regained his high hopes for his new Seeker.

"Remember Harry," Wood said after a particularly exhausting training session. "If you see a troll, what do you do?"

"Leave it alone," Harry replied, stone-faced. Fred and George sniggered nearby as they fed Gryf the pig some scraps. People had started taking him out to the grounds on clear days.

"That's right. We're going to _annihilate_ Hufflepuff!"

The defence classes were more fun than Harry expected. After the first few seventh-years got blasted backwards by a group of first-years, people started taking more interest in it. Ron and Neville were consistently surprised at the ease with which they dismantled those who challenged them.

Harry worked everyone hard, with Hermione helping people with their wand movements and pronunciation. Fred and George signed up, as expected, and soon they were challenging Ron and Neville to rematches every session. They would sometimes win, only for Ron and Neville to step up their training and take them down next time, which in turn would only inspire the twins to train harder. Harry watched them bouncing off each other, coming back stronger each time.

The majority of the class were Gryffindors, but Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws began trickling in after a couple of sessions. Even though they weren't caught up in a rivalry with Slytherin, they clearly had no desire to be defenceless if they were in the future. A very young Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang were among the surprise attendees, though they didn't know him yet. He started partnering them together immediately, which embarrassed them both.

The most interesting session came when, as everyone was winding down, _enervating_ their friends, and catching their breath, Hermione strode up to Harry and challenged him. This caught everyone's attention, as they were clearly the best duellists in the class. Harry decided against being cocky, and accepted. Inside, he was roiling, ready for the fight.

They took positions in the centre of the unused classroom they'd commandeered for the classes, and readied their wands. Harry didn't know whether Hermione expected him to play nice, but he didn't intend to hold back. He was well aware Hermione could hold her own against Death Eaters throwing the Killing Curse around, and he wasn't about to underestimate her.

He also wasn't going to pretend not to know nonverbal magic. She would likely read his thoughts anyway, and saying the incantation aloud would waste precious milliseconds. Stunners and Shield Charms only, no funny business. Her smile told him that she had been monitoring his thoughts after all, and agreed with the rules he had chosen.

The duel began. Harry's three stunners flashed across the length of the room, but the space they were aiming for was no longer occupied by Hermione. She had ducked and rolled to the side, bringing her wand up in an arc in the same movement. Harry shielded himself, but allowed it to break under Hermione's stunner, so he could fire two more at her through the fizz of the dissipating shield as he ducked to the side.

She was on her feet again, and gracefully sidestepped out of the way before launching a full-power stunner at him. He met it with one of his own, thinking she was expecting him to dodge or shield. The spells rebounded on each other, flying back to their owners. Harry leaned casually out the way, bringing up a pre-emptive shield as the spell flew over his shoulder. It turned out to be unnecessary, as Hermione was lying on her back, her wand a few feet to her side.

Harry rushed over and _enervated_ her while the class applauded. Hermione opened her eyes, stared blankly for a moment, then lightly punched him in the gut. "Why would you use a stunner against a stunner? That's a terrible idea!" she complained, sitting up.

"I didn't think you'd expect it," Harry grinned as he pulled her to her feet.

"Well you were right about that." She winced, nursing her shoulder.

It soon became tradition for her to challenge him after every class. He realised she was doing the same thing Fred and George were doing with Ron and Neville. By testing themselves against each other, they grew stronger. Hermione got more creative with the limitations of the duels, and was soon bouncing her stunners off walls and the ceiling, managing to take Harry out despite the full-strength shield he was behind.

He retaliated by learning to cast smaller shields around the classroom, each angled precisely so his stunners would flash all around the room before going towards Hermione. She was so distracted keeping track of the bouncing spells that she never saw the shield behind her appear, nor the stunner that ricocheted off it and into her back.

They kept this back-and-forth going for far longer than either expected. They were forced to innovate their style each time they fought, and soon their duels became insane whirlwinds of red light and constantly-forming shields. Harry loved it, loved the challenge, loved sparring with Hermione more than anyone else. He felt he had a better understanding of her magical ability than he ever had before, just from these duels.

Professor McGonagall poked her head in from time to time, but if she found anything wrong with their classes, she didn't mention it. Sometimes Harry asked her if she wanted to demonstrate her own prowess, though she always declined.

"Mister Potter, if parents found out I was duelling children, I would be out of a job faster than you can say _stupefy_," she said dryly. Harry thought she had a point.

Slytherins sometimes showed up, always in groups of three or four, and never participating in the sparring. Everyone knew they were scouts checking out the competition. Harry didn't mind showing them exactly what they were up against. If they were lucky, the Slytherins would avoid direct confrontations with Gryffindor students. If they weren't, then the amount of black eyes in the school was going to increase dramatically soon.

* * *

><p>Professor Dumbledore paced in his office. He was not irritated, or even worried, but he had a problem before him that he had never encountered before. The pacing helped him think; it felt as though he were physically moving towards an answer, even when he wasn't. His robes swished with each step, and the many portraits of previous Headmasters watched him. Some of them paced themselves, walking through other paintings in long circles around the room. Their advice had proved useful on occasion, so he felt no qualms about telling them his worries.<p>

"The raw magical power of a grown, experienced man," he said aloud as he had many times before. "Natural Occlumency born of forced isolation by his startlingly uncaring relatives. And an inherent understanding of magic to the extent that non-verbal spells come naturally to him."

"An oddity," said one of the Headmasters, his thick moustache vibrating as he spoke. "Probably damaged in the mind from the attack ten years ago."

Another Headmaster blustered at the thought. "We've seen the boy ourselves, in this very office no less! He seemed perfectly sane to me." Several others voiced their agreement.

"I think Harry knows exactly what he's doing," Dumbledore said quietly. "I had hoped he would confide in me, but his Occlumency is at its strongest when I attempt to see his plans. I fear I have made him distrustful of me through such actions."

"Well fancy that, someone doesn't like having their mind rifled through," Phineas Black said derisively.

"Had I been aware of how much control he has over his ability, I would not have pried. But who among you can say that you would not be curious about the thoughts of such a boy?" A grumbling silence was his only response.

McGonagall's reports on young Harry's self-defence class were surprising, to say the least. If he didn't know her as well as he did, he might think she was pulling an elaborate prank. Sometimes, he wished that was the case.

The duels between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were quickly gaining legendary status among the students, and from what Minerva had told him, not a hint of it was hyperbole. He longed to sit in on one of these sessions himself, but his presence might cause Harry to not fight as hard as he normally would, out of fear of bringing more attention upon himself. A very odd boy. After the shameful ambush at the lake, he had been confident, rational, and quite the showman as he incriminated the offending Slytherins. He'd _relished_ the chance to expose their plan and prove himself and Ronald Weasley innocent.

Dumbledore understood that feeling. It was the feeling of having all the facts, having the answer to every question. It was the feeling of numbers sliding into equations without errors or inconsistencies; of holding all the keys and guarding all the doors. He'd felt it himself many times over the years, often in front of the Wizengamot, when he'd have to wrestle them back from some terribly unjust decision.

But after the troll incident, Harry had lost that cockiness, that flashy behaviour. He could have won some more admiration and pride from his house mates by admitting that their new pig mascot was his creation, but instead Minerva said he looked terrified when she inspected the pig, afraid of getting more attention. He could have reworded the troll incident to cast himself in a better light, but instead he'd resigned himself to snide comments by Slytherins, seemingly as penance for his brash actions.

He'd focused on training his friends to duel more effectively in order to protect them from inevitable confrontations with Slytherins. He'd studied frequently and was often seen with at least one or two books nearby, some quite advanced. The teachers reported that he seemed to be going through the motions of class work, though he pretended to be challenged by every new problem they presented.

And then there was the curious nature of Harry and Hermione's meditation sessions, spotted by Prefects in the common-room and some secluded places around the castle. How many eleven-year-olds could sit still and focus well enough to meditate? Sometimes, the connection between the two seemed to be much more than a fumbling first encounter with love. They behaved as though they had their own little world separate from the one they shared with everyone else. What did they talk about in private? Neither was the type to enjoy fluffy love-talk, however much they sometimes pretended they did. What did two young geniuses have to say to each other that left them looking so serious? Minerva had interrupted their late-night chats a couple of times, but she never caught more than a snippet of their conversations.

Miss Granger was an enigma on her own, and would be equally interesting if it weren't for Harry's special circumstances. She was brilliant in her own right, though she was slightly pushed out the way by Harry. Rather than bothering her, she seemed relieved that she was not in the spotlight as much, though as his girlfriend she still received more than a fair amount of scrutiny from her classmates. Dumbledore had no doubt that she knew Disillusionment Charms as well as Harry did. They likely shared all of their knowledge, pooling their resources… but to what end?

Dumbledore felt a hunger inside of him that he had not felt in some time. This drive; the desire to _know_ had almost consumed him when was younger. Sweet Ariana's passing had brought him to his senses, if too late to save her. It was his greatest regret, and the thought of it turned the hunger from that of a lion's, to that of a mouse. He would remain calm, in control, and present himself as a trustworthy figure to Harry whenever possible. This boy was too smart, too _aware_, to fall for anything less than sincerity. With luck, and time, perhaps that would be enough.

* * *

><p>All of Gryffindor was eagerly awaiting the coming match with Hufflepuff. The only way the mood could be any tenser was if they were playing Slytherin instead. The news of Snape refereeing sent a lot of dark grumbles through the students, but Harry wasn't worried. The only real threat was from Quirrell, who might try his luck since he'd missed the first game.<p>

Hermione had a flash in her eye when he brought it up one evening. "You focus on flying. I'll take care of it," was all she said.

The rest of the team weren't quite as blasé about Snape refereeing.

"He'll be throwing Hufflepuff penalties like they're going out of fashion," Wood said darkly. "We'll need to win _fast_ or they'll bury us. Hufflepuff doesn't get a lot of glory, they'll take whatever advantage they're given. We need to strike hard and fast." His gaze turned to Harry. "Everything comes down to you, Harry. We've all seen you train; you've got what it takes. All you need to do is throw yourself out there like our lives depend on it."

"Right." Harry scratched his head thoughtfully. "I'm supposed to catch the big brown one, right?"

The twins sniggered, but Wood jerked as though he'd been slapped. "No jokes," he whispered hoarsely. "Just catch the snitch and kill anyone who tries to stop you."

Maybe Wood hadn't calmed down as much as Harry had thought. On the day of the match, Harry half-listened to Wood's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes. Harry had to admire the older boy's dedication. If they lost this match, Gryffindor would lose any chance at the Cup. He remembered helping Wood win the Cup in the Captain's final year. It was one of the best moments of his life, and likely one of the key reasons Wood went on to play for Puddlemere United.

When they took to the skies after the screech of the whistle, Harry didn't bother looking for his friends in the stands. Hermione would be 'taking care' of Quirrell, so all he had to focus on was the snitch. He flew in large circles high above the pitch, looking for a glint of gold. The wind sent his robes flapping behind him like a cape.

He descended in a large, slow, spiral, covering the entire pitch. It was a technique used by professional Seekers, as it allowed them to effectively scan the entire pitch constantly. It was often slower than randomly looking in every direction, but far more reliable. Wood needed a sure win, so Harry took the most efficient option.

The Hufflepuff Seeker, Andrew Smith, was marking him rather than searching for the snitch himself. This was a legitimate strategy, though one that led to poor habits. It was a very Slytherin thing to do, Harry thought. They would do none of the work, and then try and steal the glory at the end. Some would call it 'cunning', but Harry had other names for it.

There! Shooting through the air above the stands, a little golden dot attracted huge cheers. While Smith looked around for whatever was causing the commotion, Harry leaned forward and shot down towards it. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he flew a few feet above the screaming crowd.

The snitch flew over the Slytherin section, and Harry grit his teeth as he followed. If ever there was a perfect chance to 'accidentally' pull him off his broom, this was it. He saw Malfoy drawing his wand, a growing smirk on his face. Harry pulled his wand from the back of his pants with his right hand while simultaneously reaching for the snitch with his left.

Malfoy's spell shot at him with barely a metre between them, and Harry's shield was just formed in time. As Malfoy's curse rebounded and smacked him in the head, Harry's left hand closed around the snitch.

He steered with his knees until he put his wand away, then he turned and held the snitch high. The roar of the crowd was nothing compared to Oliver Wood, who looked on the verge of tears as he collided with Harry in a violent hug. The rest of the team joined him, even as Snape loudly talked about a foul for using the Shield Charm. He didn't have a leg to stand on when McGonagall got involved, as she had clearly seen Malfoy casting something. Their shouting match was almost as enjoyable as the actual match, in Harry's opinion.

Nothing came of Snape's complaints, and Malfoy was looking angrier than ever at dinner. "How is it," said Ron, "That in a match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Slytherins still act like sore losers?"

"They're all pretty good at being losers," Neville pointed out. Harry shot pumpkin juice out his nose from trying to laugh with his mouth full.

The walk up to Gryffindor Tower was slow but happy. They had all eaten their share of the feast, and everyone was in a good mood after the match. They walked in pairs, Ron and Neville in front and Harry and Hermione bringing up the rear. The Weasley twins were not far ahead of them, laughing about something.

Harry nudged Hermione as they walked. "So?"

"So?" she replied distantly with a far-away look that he knew meant she had been in a deep thought. He regretted interrupting her, but it was important.

"Quirrell?" he prodded.

Her eyes focused and she shook herself a little. "Oh, yes. I was ready to move at a moment's notice, but he didn't try anything. He just glared at Snape the whole match."

"Doesn't this all seem a little odd? Last time, Snape only refereed the match because Quirrell had already tried to kill me at the previous one. Why would he choose to do it this time, with no indication that I was going to be attacked?" He kept his voice low, just in case, but his friends were too busy chatting to notice.

"I'd thought of that as well… He must have had another reason to believe Quirrell would try something. I don't think he'd referee just to spite Gryffindor." She looked frustrated. "I don't like irregularities like this, Harry."

"Neither do I," he replied, and that was the last they said of it that night.

**A/N**

**Dumbledore gets a bad rap in these kind of stories, at least in my opinion. Yes, he can be nosey and manipulative, but he does genuinely want the best for everyone. I feel that too many people lose sight of that and just make him into a spider-like character; pulling strings at the centre of his web of intelligence.**

**EDIT: Forget I said anything positive about Dumbledore. People have much stronger opinions on him than I do. Just take these notes as a sign that I won't be bashing him mercilessly, at least at first.**


	5. Chapter 4: A Very Hermione Christmas

**Chapter 4: A Very Hermione Christmas**

Hermione Granger looked around nervously before she placed the final protective charm on her newest notebook. She was going through them faster than expected in her frantic desire to get down all of the information she had memorised in preparation for the task. Harry was by no means stupid, but he just couldn't get the hang of memory palaces. Even after she took him through the instructions step-by-step, slow enough that a troll could follow along, he still struggled to remember more than three lists of twenty things.

That wasn't fair. He wasn't used to compartmentalising his mind – she could see it every time she used Legilimency on him. Everything was a constant whirl of thoughts and emotions and she had to struggle not to be swept up by it. She could hardly blame him for struggling to impose order on _that_.

Her constant analysis of his mind over the last few years (in this time and 'before') had revealed a lot of things she hadn't known about him. First and foremost, his sincerity almost bowled her over the first time she recognised it. There was an avalanche, no, a _firestorm_ of love and trust whenever he thought of his friends. Sometimes, on the darker days before they traversed the time stream, she would enter his mind just to see those feelings. She had clung to them as long as she could, trying to draw them into herself.

Another unexpected discovery in Harry's thoughts was his surprising innocence. When she scanned older boys, she was always taken aback by the sheer perversion they managed to think about with a straight face. The girls had turned out to be no different, unsurprisingly. But Harry… he had memories of Ginny, of course, but they always made him sad rather than anything else. Perhaps he used to think more about those sort of things, but now there was a strange, mature filter on his head. Everything that had happened to him must have put a damper on those kind of feelings.

Harry's thoughts became a comforting presence to her over time, and when she discovered she could get inside without him realising most of the time, she had been secretly pleased. She knew for a fact that Harry didn't quite understand what it was like to feel, against any shadow of a doubt, that somebody trusts you with their most private of possessions, their thoughts. But he understood enough. He mentally equated it with being accepted and trusted by his friends at Hogwarts, and while this was a lot more intimate, it was an adequate approximation.

Ronald was almost as easy to read as The Boy Who Lived, but not because she knew his mind. Rather, Ron broadcasted his thoughts with every expression he made, which made Legilimency extremely easy. Even when he began learning Occlumency, she had no trouble slipping past his meagre, wavering shields. His thoughts were a lot easier to understand, as well. It wasn't Ron's fault, and he was as far from stupid as Harry was, but he was eleven years old physically _and_ mentally, and it was very obvious. That was part of why she found it a lot easier to leave her old love behind than Harry did. She _did_ love Ron, with all of her heart, but she loved _her_ Ron, not this boy. They were going to become completely different people now, so how could Harry expect her to sit and hope her boyfriend would one day return to her, the same as before?

No, there was more to it than that. Harry was the only one who could possibly understand her now. They came back together, knowing exactly what they were doing. She had traversed the time-stream alongside his very soul, how could he expect her not to form a deeper attachment? Thoughts like this left her wracked with guilt unless she cordoned them off in her memory palace.

But Harry didn't have that option. She had to watch him mentally torture himself with memories of the other Ron every time she pecked him on the cheek, or tried to snuggle closer in the evenings. With the number of things she had to plan for and anticipate and remember, she _needed_ those restful, close moments. But it seemed Harry was only comfortable when she was at arm's length.

That was, until he returned from St Mungo's after the troll attack. The moment she saw his memory of cutting out the part of her letter that said '_Love, Hermione'_, she knew something had changed. He lost a lot of his reluctance, though he still punished himself occasionally. He kept thinking about her without realising she was watching, and some of the thoughts were very lovely.

Hermione wasn't stupid. She knew if they kept on like this, they might very well end up loving each other as far more than friends. Part of her, locked deep behind seven-foot-thick steel walls, was horrified and disgusted at her behaviour. Another part, more optimistic yet simultaneously desperate, argued that they _needed_ to be together, that it was a side effect of traversing the time-stream that they dared not fight against. She made herself believe it with as much force as she could muster, because the alternative, the idea that she was simply ditching Ron for Harry in the way her old boyfriend had always feared, made her so ill she had to use Occlumency to calm down.

Hermione stood up from her corner booth in the library, stuffing her notebook back into her bag. There was nobody around, and the quiet detection charms she had left around the area would have told her if she had an invisible watcher. She removed them all with a single flick of her wand, then made her way out into the castle proper.

Harry would probably be angry with her for not having anyone around to watch her back, but then, if she didn't mention it, he'd never know. In the common-room, she found him lounging on the couch as usual, looking through one of the books she had left for him. He looked like he was having trouble concentrating, so she slipped her Legilimency into his mind and had a look at what was distracting him.

She found her own face reflected in his mind, and realised he had noticed her entrance. She rushed over to the couch and took a seat beside him. He was happy to see her, and she didn't miss the red, thumping commotion in his mind. She kissed him on the cheek and watched a jolt of bright colour throw the thumping out of rhythm. On the outside, he just blushed a little and asked her what she'd been up to, but Hermione could see how easily she had thrown his head into disarray.

Sometimes, during moments like this, Harry would begin thinking recursively, thoughts turning back on themselves in an attempt to hide from her gaze. The most random things would pop up in his mind during those moments, but she was completely used to the sort of bad imagery Harry considered shameful to think about. He would never master his own mind completely, she knew, and she didn't really want him to. With all of the insight she'd gained recently, it seemed amazing that he had ever learned Occlumency.

The storm of thoughts subsided as she chatted idly about working on her notebooks. It helped to distract him when his mind got like that. They couldn't talk about anything too incriminating – the common-room was far from empty – but a few carefully phrased sentences told her that Harry hadn't thought of a way to deal with Quirrell yet that fit in with their plans. Bother. Hermione hadn't thought of anything either. She was so busy getting all of her notes down that she had barely put any time into solving their first great hurdle.

But of course, she couldn't tell Harry that, so she made a few vague statements about having it 'under control'. On the outside, he accepted that, but on the inside, she could see she wasn't fooling him. He could read her like a book without Legilimency.

"We'll focus on him after Christmas," she told Harry resolutely. He agreed without hesitation; she wasn't the only one with a lot on her mind.

He was brooding over Sirius tonight. Hermione watched him remember the times when Sirius had contacted them through the very fire they sat in front of. His heart ached to see that grinning, wild face among the flames, but of course it was impossible. Scabbers! Quirrell! The diary, the Slytherins, the basilisk… there was just so much to consider! And that was before they even got started on the Horcruxes and knots.

Hermione forced herself to calm down by doing a couple of breathing exercises. They had years yet, more than enough time to chip away at their goals. They just had to stay calm and focused.

She rested her head on Harry's shoulder, absorbing his comforting warmth. His mind was thrown into chaos again, but she didn't care. If only he understood her… if only he would learn Legilimency, he would understand why this closeness was so important to her, why it wasn't meant as a betrayal.

But no, he didn't trust himself with Legilimency. It was frustrating! He was so caught up in worrying about her, he couldn't understand that seeing her thoughts was the fastest way to move past his discomfort.

Harry thought about stroking her hair, and a memory of Ginny rose in his mind as clear as day. Hermione sighed. That usually meant he would excuse himself and go to bed. This time, however, he actually went through with it, hating himself all the while.

When McGonagall interrupted them, as she often did, Hermione was dozing on Harry's shoulder. She only vaguely heard a stern voice talking to someone. They sounded a little amused, but also firm. Harry shook her gently and whispered for her to wake up.

"No…" she mumbled, trying to hold on to the warmth. The whispers sounded very embarrassed now.

"Hermione… come on, we need to go up to bed. Our beds. In our dormitories." Harry's voice slowly dragged her back to awareness.

She sat up and blinked tiredly. Harry was blushing profusely, and she was confused as to why until she turned at met McGonagall's gaze. The Professor didn't look angry, indeed, he lips seemed to be quirking upwards at the corners, as though she was holding back a smile.

"Lights out was some time ago, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, surprisingly gently.

"Oh… sorry," she yawned. Her cheeks burned hotter than the fireplace as she rose and vacated the common-room. Only after her head hit her disappointingly cold pillow did she realise she forgot to say goodnight to Harry.

Her dreams were full of crashing black waves in an ocean of nothing; of winds powerful enough to tear away everything but the absolute core of a person. She was always frightened in these dreams, but only until she realised she wasn't alone. There was a man with her, occupying almost the same space. Somehow she knew they would find their way out of this terrifying place if they stayed together.

She'd been surprised when she saw that Harry never dreamed of the time-stream. He remembered it, she knew that, but he never seemed to dwell on it. Was it because of the closeness they felt during the experience? They had been _hoping_ for that to happen. If their souls hadn't encountered each other, hadn't recognised each other, they would never have found their way out. Hermione didn't want to speculate on what happened to a soul trapped in a time stream with no way to know where to go. Would they just wander forever? Or would the soul eventually deteriorate, unable to stand against the winds of Time without a purpose to drive them?

It was a relief when Christmas came, because she would finally have a chance to test her theory about the Trace being broken. The Trace was powerful, but they had done something considered impossible. Compared to Deep Magic, the Trace was nothing.

* * *

><p>Hermione was escorted to the train by an honour guard of misfits. The majority of Slytherins were going home for Christmas too, so Harry, Ron, Neville, and even the twins and a couple of other Gryffindors accompanied her. It was overkill, but she didn't feel like complaining as she watched Harry's thoughts. He was protective, ready to fight and die for her at a moment's notice. At least <em>that<em> hadn't changed.

"I don't think getting on the train will be life-threatening," she whispered to him. She expected him to blush and lower his guard a bit, but he didn't falter.

"I'm not taking any chances," he replied evenly. The intensity in his eleven-year-old voice would probably make most adults chuckle, but the other members of the guard nodded in agreement.

In the end, if the Slytherins had been planning to get her before she boarded the train, they must have thought better of it. She found a compartment with a few older Gryffindors who looked friendly enough. They welcomed her gladly, and the trip was spent discussing how they might improve their wand technique. A couple of Slytherins passed in the hall, but apparently decided it still wasn't worth it.

Hermione had intended to work a little on her notebook during the journey, but she didn't want to answer questions about it. The others kept asking her about classes, trying to pick up tips. She measured her responses carefully; it wouldn't do for them to expect to reach the same skill level any time soon. They bought her lunch from the trolley even as she insisted she could pay for it, and she found herself in a strange position. She was _popular_.

Even though she hadn't yet found a reason to shrink her large front teeth to a more attractive size, she was with a group of people she didn't know, and they were hanging off her every word. It was surreal, and definitely a big change from the first time. How had she coped before befriending Harry and Ron? It seemed like when she looked back, they were all she could remember. The lonely first few months had been drowned out by the excitement of having friends.

So she chatted and gave advice and helped them with their homework, some of which was several years above her level. None of them questioned how she knew the answers, indeed, none of them even batted an eye when she helped a seventh-year craft a perfect introduction and outline for an essay on advanced Arithmancy. Was there no limit to what they expected from her?

But the average Hogwarts student has more on their mind than just homework. Slowly, the conversation drifted towards their love lives, who was dating who, who liked who, who had publicly embarrassed themselves this week. Hermione began reading a transfiguration textbook in an attempt to be left out of the discussion, but of course it was futile.

"So Granger," said a fifth-year girl by the name of Sandra, "How did you woo the Boy Who Lived?" The others chuckled as Hermione blushed. How was she supposed to answer that? She was too young to have wooed anyone!

"We, um, just liked being around each other," she said, staring at her shoes.

Sandra laughed and gave Hermione a slightly condescending pat on the back. "That's a better reason than most."

"Who's smarter, you or Potter?" asked a fourth-year boy.

"Er, he's very smart, but he doesn't care about grades and extra credit as much as I do. I don't think either of us is smarter than the other, we just have different priorities." For a moment she worried that she'd sounded a bit too mature, but nobody gave her any weird looks. This was _strange_. She buried her head back in the textbook.

Near the end of the ride, they all changed into their normal clothes. It was a little difficult with a full compartment, but she was small and able to dodge most of the stray elbows. For once, she wasn't frustrated with how tiny and weak she was. She was dreading having to go through all of her growth spurts again, as well as other things. That was a definite disadvantage to returning to a younger body.

But maybe… she pursed her lips as the train began to slow. If she and Harry were to train during their growing phases, they would end up being stronger and faster than before. That could be a real advantage in their quest, provided training didn't leave them too exhausted to think. She made a mental note to ask Harry what he thought when she returned after Christmas. They were already getting quite a work out dodging each other's spells in their practice sessions, so maybe it wouldn't be so difficult to add extra exercises.

Hermione led the way out of the compartment, only to bump into Crabbe's enormous chest. Malfoy was standing in the middle of the passage, with Goyle on his other side. The Gryffindors behind her stiffened as they noticed the situation.

"I'm glad to see they have a special compartment for blood-traitors and mudbloods," Malfoy sneered.

Hermione drew her wand. "If you think Harry's the only one who can put you in the hospital wing without even trying, think again."

The Slytherins laughed. "Oh look, Granger's grown some claws." Malfoy stepped closer. "But we're in London now, and you can't use magic outside of school."

"Neither can you," she replied, wondering what he was getting at. Her companions were muttering, and she turned around to see another group of Slytherins was blocking the other direction. When she looked back at Malfoy, opening her mouth angrily, his fist smacked into her nose. A definite crack reverberated through her head, and she fell backwards into the student behind her. There were some shouts and flashes of light, then she was lying on the ground with the other Gryffindors looking over her.

"You okay there, Granger?" asked the seventh-year boy she had helped earlier. He had his wand out, as did another seventh-year.

"Where did Malfoy go?" she asked, sitting up. Her nose ached terribly, though it didn't feel broken anymore.

"Ran off the second he realised some of us were of age." He looked a little sheepish. "I fixed your nose and cleaned away the blood, but I'm not good enough to take all of the pain as well."

"Thank you." Hermione got to her feet, feeling like her brains had been rattled about. Sandra handed her wand back. They were all looking at her expectantly. "Not a word of this to Harry, alright? I can deal with losing a bit of dignity, but he won't take this so lightly." They all nodded, if reluctantly.

As they left the train, Hermione was deep in thought. Malfoy knew memories could be used to incriminate people now, so why would he try something so stupid? The answer presented itself instantly. At Hogwarts, Dumbledore would likely be more than happy to let a student prove they had been attacked by using his Penseive. But outside of school, Malfoy had the full protection of his father and the Ministry influence of his family. If she tried to make anything of it, she would likely be laughed out or condescendingly told that they only used Penseives for important cases, not childish fights. It was likely Malfoy's intention to have her stew over it for the whole holiday.

Additionally, because the attack occurred in London and not at Hogwarts, it wasn't within Dumbledore's jurisdiction. Hermione felt satisfied that she had puzzled it out so quickly, and was even smiling as she went to meet her parents.

Mr and Mrs Granger were looking around at everything with happy befuddlement. Hermione couldn't help the burst of joy that rushed through her upon spotting them. Ron and the Weasley family weren't the only people she'd left behind in the future. By the time they were ready to traverse the time-stream, it had been almost five years since she'd been in contact with anyone but Harry and neo-Death Eaters. She felt sick thinking about her parents seeing the country tear itself apart, not knowing what to do or how to protect themselves, hoping their daughter would come home to help them…

Hermione was crying a little when she hugged her Mum. She stifled her tears as fast as she could, but her parents still noticed.

"What's the matter, honey?" her Dad asked.

"I-I've had a big year," she mumbled. "It's just nice to see you again."

"Oh, sweetie," her Mum crouched down so they were at eye-level (which wasn't far – the Grangers weren't a tall family). "We missed you too. _Especially_ after that letter arrived."

"What letter?" Hermione let her mother wipe her tears away. It was so nice, so comforting to be in this position again. Maybe being tiny wasn't so horrible after all.

"The one from your head of house – McGonagall, wasn't it?"

"Professor," Hermione corrected automatically, and her father smiled.

"Well," he said as her Mum straightened up, "Professor McGonagall told us some of what's been going on at school. I believe there was a troll involved at some point?" He chuckled at Hermione's expression. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. She explained everything. We have a lot to talk about when we get home, though, mainly about this Harry Potter boy."

Hermione didn't trust herself to speak, so she just nodded and let herself be led off the platform and out of the station. As they drove away, Hermione couldn't help but notice some differences with her parents. Her father had only just started balding, and his hair didn't have a trace of silver in it yet. Her mother's bushy hair was almost exactly like Hermione's, except worn with grace. She'd always admired her mother for making their unruly hair work for her, while she barely did anything more than brush it.

The car was the same one that had taken her to Muggle school for so many years, and it still had a few books in the nets on the back of the chairs that she kept in case of long drives. There was a little pencil stuck between the seats that she always thought about getting out, but never bothered to. It was all so _familiar_ yet so nostalgic that she almost brought herself to tears again. A second adolescence might seem a curse to many kids, but Hermione was starting to realise just how valuable a gift it really was.

* * *

><p>The Granger household was clean and orderly, though with a few quirks that made it feel like home. In the garden bed, there was a square of flowers where the half closest to the window were vibrant and beautiful, while the other half looked under-watered. Mr Granger was in an ongoing contest to prove to Mrs Granger that he was capable of taking care of plants. The window overlooking the flowers looked in on his favourite armchair, and when he 'watered' them, he just poured his glass of water out the window, resulting in the uneven health of the flowers. Mrs Granger continued to pretend that she didn't notice, and both parents laughed about it with Hermione when they were alone.<p>

The front door was big and white, with a curious streak of purple on the side from where Mr Granger had accidentally started to paint from the wrong pan. He'd been terrified, of what Hermione's mother would think, but as it turned out, she thought it looked rather smart, like a bit of minimalist art. Hermione still giggled at the memory of her father changing his tune abruptly and claiming he was copying an artist he'd once read about.

The hatstand in the main hallway had a big novelty hat sitting on it, looking very out-of-place in this fortress of relative neatness. The hat had a feather in it that brushed the face of any adults that walked past. Mr Granger would complain about it and swear he was going to get rid of it, but it never went anywhere. Hermione once asked her mother where it came from, and discovered that her Dad's father had been quite the eccentric fellow before he passed away. The old man had left his silly hat on the stand during one of his final visits, and Dad never had the chance to give it back. Mr Granger wasn't depressed about it or anything; he just couldn't make himself get rid of the thing.

Hermione clambered up the stairs on all fours (after making sure her parents weren't looking), silently loving being able to do things like that again. She burst into her room with unrestrained enthusiasm. As an only child to fairly successful parents, she had a decent-sized room with a big desk and her own bookcase (which had long since been filled up). A window looked out over the park behind her house, where kids were playing on some swings.

Her walls were a soft blue, because she'd read at the age of seven that blue was naturally calming. It was supposed to help her study difficult subjects as well as sleep easier. Her parents had agreed with her reasoning, probably because they were getting a little tired of having to pry the books out of her fingers to make her relax. Her sheets were a darker blue, and the ceiling had been painted to resemble the night sky. Only half of the roof had stars and constellations; the painter had gotten frustrated when she kept pointing out errors. During her third year at Hogwarts, she finally grew tall enough to stand on a step ladder and finish the painting herself. She intended to do the same this time.

Hermione flopped onto her bed with a big sigh. It felt like she was lucid dreaming, being back here again. She couldn't wait to tell Harry about her new perspective. But… Harry would never understand. She'd seen in his head how awful the Dursleys were to live with. He would never feel the way she was feeling right now.

No, that wasn't true. He _had_ felt it, just a slower version, a more hesitant one. But it was _Hogwarts_ that he felt this way for, not the Dursleys. Hermione suddenly felt she hadn't really understood Harry's attachment to the school as well as she did now. It was more than a second home, it was his _actual_ home.

She sighed again and curled up on top of the covers. What was she going to do about him? He always felt so guilty when they were together, even though he hadn't even met Ginny properly yet. Every time he looked at Ron, he seemed to expect a look of horror and betrayal. How could she ease his fears? They were less pronounced after the troll incident, but surely it shouldn't take something so drastic to make him relax a bit. Maybe… maybe all he needed was more time to adjust, to form some new memories of their time together so he wouldn't feel like he was betraying his old ones.

"Honey?" her Mum's voice came from the doorway.

Hermione sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. Good grief, she couldn't even put her feet flat on the ground yet. "Yes, Mum?"

"Would you like to talk now, or should we wait until tomorrow so you have some time to rest?"

"Now is fine. I'll be down in a minute."

After her mother left, Hermione wandered over to the bookcase. They were all Muggle books for now, but over the next few years about half would be replaced by magical ones. She'd end up getting a bigger bookcase in the summer before her fourth year, only to fill it overnight. She ran her fingers over the spines of her collection, most worn from re-reading. Her fingers were trembling slightly.

Downstairs, Hermione found her parents in the living room near the front of the house. Mr Granger was in his armchair, a glass of water sitting on the table beside him. He saw her looking at it and gave her a wink that she returned. Mrs Granger sat on the couch against the wall, leafing through two letters that had the distinct texture of parchment.

Once Hermione had sat down beside her, Mrs Granger plucked the first letter and waggled it in the air. "This is from Professor McGonagall," she said happily. "In fact, they both are. But this is the first one. It arrived early in the year." Hermione swallowed audibly, and her parents chuckled. "You're not in trouble, honey."

Her Dad leaned forward to involve himself a bit more. "It tells us that you are quite a talented w-witch." He still hesitated over that word. After all, it was usually an insult (if an archaic one) in the Muggle world. "We don't understand it completely, but apparently you're as powerful as a trained adult, and that's something to be proud of in our book."

Hermione beamed as her mother kissed her cheek. "But," warned Mrs Granger, "Natural talent only takes you so far. Hard work and diligence will always win out in the end." Her mother pulled up the second letter. "At least, that's the lecture we'd be giving you if we hadn't received _this_."

Mr Granger liked to gesture with his hands as he spoke. "Professor McGonagall told us there was an altercation with a troll that had somehow got into the school." He paused. "Now that's a sentence I never thought I'd say," he muttered a moment later, scratching his neck.

"She told us that a friend of yours, this Harry Potter boy, had tried to, er, fight the troll himself," Mum took over. "She also mentioned that you and he weren't speaking to each other at the time, but you didn't hesitate before rushing to his rescue. I think she might have been worried that we would consider moving you to that school in France, because she went on for a good few paragraphs about your outstanding academic achievements in just the last few months alone."

"You're a proper genius, she told us," said Mr Granger, his chest swelling. "Top of your entire year. We knew you'd go far, magic or not." Hermione darted over and threw her arms around her Dad. Even though they had no idea what she'd done, it still felt like they were forgiving her.

"And more than that, we are so proud that you helped your friend despite having an argument with him. People can be very spiteful in life, so we're just pleased that you know what really matters." Mrs Granger sounded a little choked up with pride at that point, and Hermione was fit to burst from all the praise.

"Well, he's my boyfriend, I couldn't just _leave_ him." Hermione's brain took a few seconds to realise what she'd said. That _never_ happened.

Her parents exchanged looks. "Your boyfriend?" her father repeated. "This, ah, Harry Potter boy?"

"Um, well, I _say_ boyfriend, but really, he's just, um, a friend who _happens_ to be a boy." She cursed her unthinking tongue. Being an innocent eleven-year-old was difficult. What kind of girl had a boyfriend at eleven?

Mr Granger reclined back in his chair. "I thought I had a couple more years," he said. He had a very pathetic look on his face. Hermione exchanged a flat glance with her mother. "We may as well stock up on prune juice and start writing to the editor."

"I like prune juice," Mrs Granger said sniffily. "For goodness sake, this isn't the end of the world."

Hermione was feeling a bit haughty herself. "Oh, come on, Dad. Harry's very nice. We study together all the time. He's second in our year and just as powerful as me."

"Are you sure he's not just copying off you?" Mr Granger asked suspiciously, leaning forward again. "The boy tried to fight a troll, didn't he? I don't know what they are, but they sound dangerous. He can't be too bright."

Hermione was a bit exasperated. "He's not copying off me. We're both far ahead of our year. And he only tried to fight the troll because I told him he was getting overconfident about his power. He was trying to prove that he was right to be so sure of himself."

"Got that wrong, didn't he?" laughed Mr Granger. "Had to get you to pull him out of the mess anyway!"

Hermione crossed her arms. "Dad, he nearly died."

Her father lost his smile and she was pleased he had the decency to look a little ashamed. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't realise it was so serious."

"It was. But he's not always stupid enough to try something like that. It's just that he lives with his aunt and uncle who hate him and all magic, so Hogwarts and his friends are all kind of his family now. But when we had an argument, he was alone again, which is bad for him." She said all this very fast.

"Oh," said Mr Granger. "Well, ah, I didn't know all that." He hunched his shoulders defensively. "First my little girl gets a boyfriend, now she's telling me off. Should I help you look for an apartment now?"

Hermione plopped herself in her father's lap and hugged him. "Not just yet."

They spent the rest of the evening talking about her classes. Her parents were very good listeners, though it was clear they had no idea what to make of the fantastical stories. Transfiguration seemed particularly intriguing to them. The idea of something just suddenly becoming something else had them frowning even after she moved on to Charms.

Hermione also gave detailed, enthusiastic descriptions of the school grounds and the Gryffindor common-room. "The fire keeps going until Professor McGonagall comes to check that all the students are in bed. Then I think the house-elves come and clean everything up," she told them.

"How late does she come to check that the students are in bed?" asked Mrs Granger.

"Lights out is at nine o'clock, so she usually checks at around nine-thirty or ten."

"And how do you know this?" Mr Granger asked shrewdly.

"Harry and I usually sneak past the prefects and talk in front of the fire," Hermione admitted, twiddling her thumbs.

Mrs Granger sighed dreamily. "That sounds so lovely."

"Our daughter sneaks out of bed with a boy late at night and you just think it's lovely?" Mr Granger looked caught between indignation and a cheeky smile.

Hermione huffed. "Good _grief_ Dad, we're eleven! I can't even kiss his cheek without his whole face going red."

Her mother giggled, while her father looked a little gobsmacked. "You've _kissed_ him already?! Where's all my time going?"

They laughed at his reaction, and Hermione felt the remaining tension drain from her mind. It was good to be home.

* * *

><p>Hermione refused to think about the plan for the next few days. She helped her parents around the house, went shopping with them, and waited for Christmas like any other child. She felt a little guilty about taking this time for herself with so much at stake, but really, there wasn't much else she could do. Testing the Trace was going to have to wait until after Christmas just in case she got a letter that killed the happy mood. Just one little spell wouldn't get her expelled… would it? The Ministry of this time was rife with corruption, but they had no reason to dislike her yet.<p>

Speaking of the Ministry, they had to find a way to leash Fudge in case things got out of hand again… No, no, now was family time.

On Christmas Eve, the Grangers were huddled up in front of the fire, going through old photo albums. There wasn't going to be any big family dinner; most of her cousins lived too far away. She didn't mind; this time with her parents was so very precious to her that very little could spoil her mood.

Underneath their modestly decorated Christmas tree, a small pile of presents sat. Hermione had sent Harry, Ron, and Neville a box of Chocolate Frogs each, which had put a bit of a dent in her money supply. Thankfully, she still had Muggle pocket money with which to buy presents for her parents. Perfume for her mother (regrettably quite cheap, but it smelled nice), and a watering can for her father (she couldn't stop giggling imagining his face). She ended up dozing off in the heat of the fire, and her Dad ended up carrying her to bed.

In the morning, she was delighted to find two more books on magical theory from 'Santa', and a lovely winter dress from her mother. Mr Granger laughed so hard he was wiping away tears when he unwrapped the watering can, while Mrs Granger pretended not to get the joke. He presented her with his gift afterwards, a large, complex schedule planner. She loved it because it covered multiple years, so she could use it for long-term plans.

They went for a walk outside after breakfast, with Hermione feeling quite smart in her dark new dress, wearing a dash of Mrs Granger's new perfume (which she adored). The snow wasn't too thick along the footpath, so they had no trouble wandering around looking at the decorations hung about town. There was a large Christmas tree in the town square that looked a bit windswept from the overnight snow, and some kids were trying out their new toys as parents chatted with each other.

Hermione focused on carrying herself as gracefully as her mother, even when her hair flew about and got in her mouth. Even in the other time, she never truly felt she had managed to achieve such composure. Maybe this time would be different. For example, she had never asked for tips because she was too embarrassed. Now…

"Mum, how do you walk so gracefully?"

Mrs Granger looked surprised, but pleased. "It comes from my dance classes, long ago. They taught me how to control my body's movements through practice and discipline. Now I just do it out of habit." When Hermione went silent for a few seconds, her mother's smile deepened. "Would you like me to teach you to dance? It's quite fun once you know how."

"Yes, please." Well, why not? Who said she had to stumble through adolescence again?

Mum beamed. "Oh, you'll love it, honey. I think I have some of my old dance books in the cupboard, you can take those back to school with you, if you like."

Harry sometimes went on late-night flights, maybe she could go for late-night dances? It was a lot safer, at least. "That sounds wonderful, Mum."

"You know, kung-fu also teaches discipline and control," said Mr Granger reasonably.

"You and your kung-fu!" laughed Mrs Granger. "Hermione wasn't interested at age seven, and I doubt very much she'd be interested now."

Hermione gave her Dad a side-hug as they walked. "Dancing first, Daddy. We can do kung-fu next year." His walk became a lot more chipper as they returned home.

The rest of Christmas Day was spent with Mrs Granger showing Hermione the proper stretches to do to limber up. "Dancing often involves moving your body in sudden movements and holding unusual poses," she explained. "If your muscles aren't used to moving in a certain way, they could tear from the unexpected strain. That's why these stretches are the most important part of learning to dance."

Hermione was an attentive listener, even as Dad occasionally requested a demonstration of a round-house kick. They ended up getting him back by forcing him to join in, and soon they were collapsing over each other and laughing as he wobbled about.

That night, she practiced a bit more in her room, the dance books lying open on her bed. It made her realise how uncoordinated her body was, except for her wrist and fingers, which were used to wandwork and needed no stretching. She fell asleep with her head in a book.

The next day, she only had an hour to practice with Mum before her parents had to go out for something. Hermione found herself home alone for the first time since returning. She sighed and wiped the sweat from her forehead. There'd never be a better chance.

She took her wand from her trunk and wandered around the house, looking for something easy to break. The Granger household was quite practical, so there weren't many fragile things sitting in precarious places. Eventually, she found herself back in the living room where they practiced dancing.

A purple vase on the corner table became immediately obvious. It was a wedding gift for her parents, so that would give her an easy excuse as to why she panicked and repaired it with magic. She wasn't very good at dancing yet, and she lost control and stumbled into the table… yes, this would work perfectly.

Hermione marched over to the vase and shoved the table with her hip. The vase toppled off and landed with a muted thud on the carpet, completely intact. "Oh, come on," she muttered. After a moment of thought, she took off her shoe and smacked the vase as hard as she could. It rolled a little but didn't break. She brought the shoe down repeatedly, feeling very silly as she did so. Finally, on the tenth hit, the vase cracked down the middle. That would do.

Drawing her wand, she felt a rush of excitement go through her. The moment of truth was here. "_Reparo._"

The crack sealed itself instantly, and she placed the vase back on the table. Harry's memories said he got a letter almost immediately after he did magic at home. The next few minutes were extremely tense, and – there was noise from the front door. Hermione quickly stuffed her wand inside her new dress and pulled her shoe back on. The door opened, and her parents entered, chatting idly. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

As she went to help them with some shopping, she had a quick look around the front porch. There were no letters or owls nearby. Could it really be? Was the Trace broken?

Mrs Granger had bought her some tights for dancing (she looked horrified at the idea of learning to dance in school robes), as well as a turkey for dinner, which Mr Granger got to work on immediately, looking a little fiendish as he played with all the little cooking tools he never got to use.

Another day passed with no letter, so Hermione decided to try again, this time a little more obviously. She was sitting on her bed wearing her new tights in the meditation pose, listening for the sounds that would tell her where her parents were in the house. After some loud words echoed from below, followed by laughter, she found the courage to pick up her wand and levitate three of her books from the bookcase. They flew around the room a few times, did some loops, then settled themselves back into place.

When morning came and there was still no letter, she began to get very excited. _One more test,_ she told herself, trying not to get too caught up in the moment. The next two days passed with nothing but dance lessons and family time, so she decided to do one last bit of magic, something so complex that there would be no excuse for the Trace not to pick it up.

She had a bag of marbles among some of the things on her desk. They were an old birthday present from her grandfather, but she never took them off her desk because Mr Granger wouldn't stop chortling about 'losing her marbles' every time she tried.

Hermione took a single marble and snuck into her backyard while her parents were having tea with the neighbours across the road. She dropped the marble in the snow and looked around. The fence was high enough to shield all but the roofs of her neighbours, but she looked carefully to make sure there were no holes anywhere.

Finally, with no reason to continue stalling, she waved her wand at the marble and watched it grow and twist into a live rooster. It clucked and pecked at the snow before she quickly reversed the spell and collected the marble. If _that_ didn't get the Trace's attention, nothing would.

But there was no letter, no warning or expulsion, no reason to believe anyone but Hermione knew what she'd been up to. It felt… freeing. There were a lot of new options to consider now. She'd have to re-write a fair bit of her plan with this discovery. Harry… he was going to be difficult. It would be all she could do to convince him not to immediately ditch school and start hunting, she was sure of it.

In the final days before she returned to school, Hermione tried to stuff as much family time into each minute as possible. The dancing was a lot of fun, and her mother was having a great time relearning the art alongside her. They twirled around the living room every morning and evening now, and Hermione tried some other moves at night in her room, sliding around in her socks. When her mother wasn't around, Mr Granger put on some kung-fu movies and they tried to copy the actors, usually ending up laughing red-faced on the floor.

New Year's Eve was spent watching the countdown on T.V. and waiting for the fireworks. It was too cold to go see them up close, but if Mr Granger lifted Hermione on his shoulders, she could see over the backyard fence and watch them. As the inky blackness bloomed with colour, she felt the insane urge to run and get her wand so she could send up her own sparks. Something about the fireworks reminded her of magic, and she felt a deep calling inside of her, drawing her back to the wizarding world.

"What's the matter, honey?" whispered her Dad as the show ended. He must have heard her sigh.

"School soon," she grunted.

"I thought you liked school?" He crouched in the snow so she could hop off his back.

"I do. But this whole holiday has been so perfect I don't want it to end."

They walked back inside and Mum went about making some hot chocolate. "All good things come to an end eventually, hun. There needs to be normal stuff in between the good things or they wouldn't be so good," Mr Granger continued. "Your mother and I are going back to work soon, too. We can swap if you want. Believe me, I'd much rather go to that school of yours than get my fingers chewed on by teething kids."

Hermione giggled, but she was still a little thoughtful as she sipped on her hot chocolate. She'd underestimated how easy it was to fall back into the mindset of an eleven-year-old. Privately, she supposed it came from a latent, childish desire to be free from responsibility; to have somebody else take care of her. But Hermione couldn't afford to drift too far back into that comforting feeling. It was too tempting, too addicting. This fuzzy dream wasn't meant to last, and the stakes were too high to lose focus for too long.

"Mum, Dad… do you think Harry could come stay with us in the summer?" she asked suddenly.

"Er," her Dad stalled, looking at Mrs Granger for guidance but only finding more surprise. "Let's discuss it when the time comes. You still have two more terms before then."

Hermione nodded, pretending to be oblivious to the sudden exchange of glances between her parents. If Harry was here, they might be able to go on midnight trips around the country and get to work. Either that, or she could Apparate to Privet Drive and collect him from there every night. It would just be so much easier if they were staying in the same house… the Burrow? No, too many people, plus Harry always shared Ron's room. Somebody would notice their absence and Mrs Weasley, lovely though she was, could be a demon when she was feeling nosy.

"Sweetie," said Mum, "You know not to… um, kiss too much, don't you? This Harry boy sounds very… interesting, but you are still young, and…" she trailed off at Hermione's look of horror.

"Mum! I'm eleven!"

"You're maturing very fast, so we think it's better that we get the facts on the table sooner rather than later."

Hermione felt a little ill at the thought. "You bought me that biology book when I was nine. It had more than enough facts in it. There's no need for revision."

Mr Granger sniggered in a very boyish way, only to choke under a sharp look from Mrs Granger. "Your mother's right," he said quickly.

Hermione glared at him. "Coward."

"No, he's being _supportive_," Mum corrected primly.

This was ridiculous. They hadn't tried to give her the 'talk' until her fourth year, last time. She had no intention of doing anything untoward then and she most certainly didn't now. "I take back my complaints about going back to school," she muttered. Dad looked sympathetic, but not enough to speak up.

"Now, do you have any things that you don't understand?" asked Mum, ignoring her muttering.

Hermione drained the last of her hot chocolate like it was hard liquor. "Please don't do this," she whimpered.

"It's for your own good, honey," Dad said gently, but his eyes said 'run'.

So she darted from the room and raced up the stairs, and didn't come down until morning.

The drive back to King's Cross wasn't as enjoyable as the last one. She watched the houses and cars flash past, sometimes imagining a little person running alongside the car dodging everything in their way. Her new tights and dance books were in her trunk, and she was looking forward to finding a peaceful place to dance at night. It seemed like such a romantic idea, dancing at midnight in a magic castle, that she actually caught herself smiling dreamily at the family in the car next to them. Her cheeks red, she sunk down into her chair until they were out of sight.

Mrs Granger hadn't brought up the conversation from before, but Hermione was ready with her earmuffs just in case. The overnight snowfall was fairly heavy, so a long drive became even longer, and Hermione wasn't looking forward to spending another few hours on the Hogwarts Express. Hopefully she would be able to find the same group she came with. Having some seventh-years around would be handy if Malfoy wanted to have a second round.

Hermione felt at her nose absently. She'd been so caught up in the holiday that she'd forgotten all about getting her nose broken by Malfoy. It made her a little happy knowing the foul Slytherin's plan to make her stew over it had failed. This time, however, she didn't intend to let him do anything, no matter whose jurisdiction they were in.

On Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, her mother and father were once again taken in by the odd sights around them. Hermione had to tug on her Dad's sleeve four times before he realised she needed help heaving her trunk onto the train.

"Remember to write to us if you need advice," Mum whispered knowingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I will."

"And don't forget to practice your kung-fu," Dad added cheerfully. "And your dancing, of course."

"I won't."

"And stay inside when it's snowing or you'll catch a cold. And wear your ear muffs so your ears don't freeze off."

"I know, Mum," Hermione forestalled any further advice by giving them both a hug and climbing on board the train.

There were students running up and down the hallway, collecting last-minute belongings from their parents or looking for their friends. Hermione continued at a much more dignified pace, calmly inspecting each compartment for familiar faces. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were chatting animatedly in an otherwise empty compartment, so Hermione slid the door open.

"Do you mind if I join you?" she asked.

"'Course not," said Seamus, and they both rose to help with her trunk.

"Thank you." She paused. "I should mention that there might be trouble with Malfoy if I stay here."

"Not a problem, Hermione," said Dean, and he and Seamus retrieved their wands from their trunks as she sat down. As they returned to their discussion of the merits of Muggle football (with Seamus in complete disbelief that people would willingly watch a game with only one ball), Hermione couldn't help but laugh inwardly. Gryffindor boys were a good sort.

They were soon joined by Terry Boot and Michael Corner, both Ravenclaws. Hermione felt to urge to inform them of the possible confrontation, but their responses were surprisingly uncaring.

"If he tries anything stupid, well, we've all heard the Professors talk about your skill, Hermione," Terry explained simply.

"Yeah, we probably won't get involved, but we'll help you mop him up afterwards," grinned Michael.

Hermione was a little flattered by the trust they had in her duelling ability. Granted, Malfoy wasn't exactly a challenge for her or Harry in a straight fight, but he was tricky and good at covering his weaknesses.

The journey began, and after a couple of attempts to engage the boys in conversation about something other than Quidditch, she found herself getting a little sleepy. In order to keep herself alert, she began running through the list of known Death Eaters in her head.

_Avery, Carrow siblings, Dolohov, Crouch Junior, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, Crabbe, Malfoy, Mulciber, Gibbon, Goyle, Greyback, Jugson, Nott, Pettigrew, Rowle, Travers, Macnair, Yaxley._

There was no denying that those people were beyond redemption. Harry's assessment of the situation was brutal, but right. They would all need to be neutralised, one way or another. Malfoy was the only name on that list that wavered, simply because he and his son had defected near the very end of the war, after losing all of their power and influence. It would be foolish to think they would ever consider abandoning the Dark for anything less than that. No, the Malfoys in their current state were beyond redemption. Just as she couldn't love this Ron for the man he _might_ become, she couldn't show mercy to the Malfoys for the regret they _might_ feel.

It was disturbing to return from a lovely holiday only to start planning assassinations, but if it kept her from slipping into a haze of apathy, then so be it.

They had just changed into their school robes when the compartment door slid open. "How's your nose, Granger?" drawled Malfoy as he stepped inside.

The smart thing to do would be to just put up with his taunts until he went away. There was no reason to attack first and get a detention before term even started. It was completely illogical.

She drew her wand and pointed it at his chest. Before he could even register surprise, the stunner smacked into him and he fell out of the compartment. Hermione leaned out and stunned Crabbe and Goyle too. Without wasting any time, she _Obliviated_ all three of them, levitated them further down the hall, then _enervated_ them before ducking back inside her compartment.

She sat down with a huff and tucked her wand away. The four boys were looking at her with astonishment. "I'm just really sick of them," she explained. They nodded mutely.

A minute later, three very confused-looking Slytherins stumbled past the compartment without noticing who was inside. Hermione resisted the urge to exchange grins with the boys, instead focusing on reading one of the dance books her mother gave her.

"Whatcha reading there, Hermione?" asked Michael Corner.

Hermione held up the book so he could see the cover. "My Mum gave it to me."

"Are you going to teach Harry to dance?" Seamus and Dean sniggered, annoying her a little.

"Yes, actually. Dancing gives you control and discipline over your body. The extra agility could be very useful while duelling." That cut their humour short, and she could see them eyeing the book thoughtfully in the corner of her eye. _Great, now I have to actually teach Harry. I just wanted to look graceful._

She couldn't see Harry agreeing to something like that. "Dancing?" he'd probably say, "You want to learn to dance instead of planning the assassinations of Death Eaters?" He'd get all worked up, and his mind would be whirling with emotion, and she'd have to withdraw her Legilimency before she went the same way. Maybe if she approached him the right way… a kiss on the cheek to disarm him, followed by explaining the combat benefits… yes, that might work. It was worth a shot, at least. Maybe it would even end up being fun.

For the remainder of the trip, she focused on meditating without taking the lotus position. If she managed to master this, she could learn to meditate even during duels, which would increase her awareness and rational thinking. That was the long-term plan, anyway. For now, she mainly used meditation to peruse her memory palace or calm down after a long day.

The boys stayed close to her when the train finally stopped and the students made their way up to the school once more. They all had their hands in their pockets, probably gripping their wands. They grew especially tense when students with green-trimmed robes walked too close, but for the most part they were surrounded by Gryffindors. Hermione wondered if she'd earned some kind of place of honour for her work in the fight against Slytherin.

But there were no further confrontations, and they made it inside the castle without drawing their wands. Hermione made a beeline for the common-room, where she found Harry talking with Ron and Neville. Upon spotting her, Harry got up so quickly that he tripped over Gryf, who was basking near the fire, making Ron and Neville roar with laughter.

She was inside his thoughts before he even got to his feet, and the genuine happiness at seeing her again was very gratifying to witness. There would be time to talk about the Trace later, she decided as she hugged Harry.

The boys explained they had been training over the holiday, and she was happy to see Harry was pushing them to get better and better. If they ever brought their friends in on the plan, they'd need to know how to handle themselves. Their Occlumency training wasn't going as well, mainly because Harry had mostly forgotten to teach it to them.

Neville and Ron showed off their new skills in an impromptu sparring session. Hermione was rather impressed at how much their speed and accuracy had improved. Harry was a great teacher for physical things like duelling. Hermione hoped she was as good at teaching dancing, once she'd practiced a bit more on her own.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Cosy Christmas with Hermione!  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 5: Dancing Duellists

**Chapter 5: Dancing Duellists**

In the weeks following the Hufflepuff match, Harry found himself struggling more and more to keep up with Hermione in the duels. She was moving faster and faster, seeming to flow around his stunners, and now he was only winning every third match. It was a little disgruntling to be overtaken in the one skill he thought he was pretty good at, aside from flying.

Finally, after being _enervated_ at the end of their latest match, he took her aside to express his fears. "We're in the same class, we know most of the same tactics, we're even pretty much the same size right now," he said with a little bit of frustration in his voice.

"Yes, that's all true," Hermione agreed, but she looked so pleased he wanted to shake her.

"So?" he asked.

"So, what?" Her face was perfectly innocent

He growled. "So how are you getting ahead of me?"

"I've been practicing a new technique. You wouldn't like it."

"If it lets me move like that, I think I'd like it quite a lot."

"Dancing." Her eyes sparkled.

"Dancing? You learned this from those dance books?"

"And a lot of practice at night," she allowed.

Harry took a deep breath. His only experience with dancing was at the Yule Ball in his fourth year, and that had been awful. He pretended to watch two boys duelling nearby while he considered it. "You don't practice in a public place, do you?"

"No, of course not."

He chewed his lip. "Well… I suppose if it lets me move faster… Can you teach me?"

"Yes! Oh, I've been waiting for you to ask for weeks. I thought you wouldn't agree to it unless you saw the benefits used against you." Hermione beamed.

Harry supposed she had a point there. It was weird how well she knew his mind now. "So when do you practice?"

"Well I've got a schedule going where I practice the same days that we have this class. It won't cut into your Quidditch training or anything."

He thought it over for a bit as the class slowly winded down. If dancing really could let him move quicker and more fluidly, it would be foolish not to learn it. A solid tactical advantage like that could mean the difference between success and failure.

But to learn it, he'd have to spend many of his nights with Hermione, just the two of them. Their fireside chats were already one of his favourite parts of the day, but he was uneasy about spending too much time alone with her if they weren't going to be planning. The other night, she'd started talking about unintended side-effects of traversing the time-stream together, that their growing connection was a result of performing such incredible magic together. Harry crushed the thought in his head without considering it. To him, it sounded like an excuse, a way of relinquishing responsibility. As they were, he could keep a clear space between himself and Hermione if he kept that in mind.

Hermione's expression had fallen as he'd thought it over. She was clearly following his train of thought. Harry hardened his passive defences to force her out of his mind. "I think we should get Ron and Neville involved too," he said.

"We will – but not until you're proficient enough to teach them. You're much better at teaching physical things than I am," Hermione said quickly. Her Legilimency tapped politely on his defences.

He tried to glare, but it was so silly that he found himself smiling and letting her back in. "Fine. But I reserve the right to change my mind depending on how the first lesson goes tonight."

Hermione graciously allowed him that small way out, and they went over to join Ron, who was helping Neville up after a rough duel.

"Going well?" asked Harry.

Neville grimaced. "I feel like I've hit a wall, Harry."

"Me too," said Ron. "I think I could get better, but if I try too hard, my wand feels like it's about to break."

An idea sparked to life in Harry's mind, but Hermione was faster. "Did you get that wand from Ollivander?" she asked.

"Nah, it was my brother Charlie's." Ron's ears went a little red.

"That could be the problem then. Wands don't perform as well for people they didn't choose, even if they are related."

Neville looked uncomfortable. "Mine used to be my father's," he said quietly. Harry wanted to say something, but this Neville hadn't told them about the horrible fate of his parents yet, and he didn't want to force him to.

"You both need your own wands if you want to get even stronger," Hermione said simply. "Imagine not being able to bring your best at a moment when it really matters."

"We don't all have money to throw at new wands, you know," Ron growled.

"Harry does." Hermione folded her arms and Harry looked away, fighting the urge to groan. This was just about the worst way to approach Ron about the subject. "Think about it: you're both members of the advanced class of this club. Harry buying you both new wands would be no different than when McGonagall bought him his Nimbus. It's not a personal gift, it's for the good of the team."

Maybe Hermione wasn't being as insensitive as he first thought. It was all in the phrasing, and she seemed to have thought about it previously. "Yeah," he said, thinking as he spoke, "I'm the instructor, right? It's my job to train and prepare people alongside Hermione. It's my _duty _to make sure you're both properly equipped."

Ron looked less angry, though still a little uneasy. Neville was looking at his shoes. "My gran offered to get me a new wand. I… I chose to keep this one." His voice was startlingly serious for his age.

People were filtering out of the classroom now, talking noisily. "You don't have to tell us why if you don't want to," Hermione said gently as Harry subtly moved to block the crowd's line of sight in case the boy started weeping.

Neville must have noticed, because he gave Harry a grateful look before shaking his head. "Not right now."

Ron was thoroughly confused by the exchange, but he seemed to sense the shift in mood because the anger had drained from his face. "I suppose… if it's for the club…"

"We can make it a condition of being in the advanced class," suggested Hermione. "If you don't have your own wand, one will be bought for you."

"Alright, alright. Harry? What do you think? It's your money." Ron shrugged awkwardly.

"You heard Hermione, my hands are tied. Looks like we'll need to go to Diagon Alley sometime in the summer." Harry knew Ron would feel better if it seemed there was no other choice.

"That's settled then." Hermione clapped her hands as though banging the gavel.

* * *

><p>Harry sat on the side of his bed, looking at his Nimbus longingly. It was such a clear night outside that he was tempted to not show up to the first dance session with Hermione. The lake probably looked like a perfect mirror right now. He could almost feel the cold air around him as he drifted above the surface with nothing to distract him. The utter peacefulness of night was severely underrated.<p>

Instead, he forced himself to leave his broom behind as he pulled his invisibility cloak on and went down to the common-room. Hermione was waiting, leaning against the wall near the portrait hole. Harry snuck closer to her without making a sound, of the mind to scare her for making him agree to this.

She looked straight at him and smirked. "Legilimency works on invisible people, too," she whispered.

Harry swore as loud as he could in his head. "I thought you needed some form of eye contact," he replied.

"You do, normally."

He got her point. They'd left normal behind a long time ago. "So are we doing it here?"

Hermione shook her head and pushed the portrait hole open. "I have the perfect place in mind. Can I come under there?" Harry raised the edge of the cloak and she ducked inside.

"Lead the way," he muttered.

They closed the portrait hole behind them, with the Fat Lady looking around nervously as their footsteps faded away. The corridors were awfully cold this time of year, so Hermione cast some quick Warming Charms to keep them both from shivering. After a close encounter with Mrs Norris, Harry wished he had the Marauder's Map. Filch was most likely patrolling nearby, and Harry had no desire to partake in that familiar dance.

Hermione was leading him away from the Grand Staircase, so wherever she had in mind, it was on the seventh floor. It only took a few minutes for him to realise the only possible destination was the Astronomy Tower. "Trelawney?" he whispered.

"Is a deep sleeper," she grinned at him.

They climbed up the tower, bypassing the Divination classroom and making for the top. Harry shivered despite the Warming Charm when he stepped out into the open room where Dumbledore had died so many years ago. It looked exactly as it had that night. The cold night air wafting from the balcony made his stomach knot.

Hermione's hand closed around his, and she pulled the cloak off and dropped it on the floor. His other hand was taken too, and she led him into the middle of the room. "We'll start simple," she whispered.

"Why here?" Harry pleaded. He couldn't feel less like flying now.

"You thought it was a peaceful, beautiful night." Hermione pushed his arms forward and pulled them back in a slow, smooth rhythm. "You carry all those memories around with you, wherever you go. They weigh you down, and if you don't learn to let some of them go, you'll be crushed."

Harry breathed deeply, vaguely trying to go through some meditation exercises. He let himself be steered around the room in utter silence, and slowly, he relaxed. It was gradual, and there were still parts of him that couldn't move on so quickly, but at this moment, he felt alright.

"How does this increase your agility?" he asked once he'd calmed down a bit.

"It doesn't," Hermione replied, bringing them back to the centre. "But you needed it nonetheless."

After that, Harry was able to copy Hermione's movements as she demonstrated several stretches. He was surprised at how wound-up and tight his muscles were. Hermione assured him it would get better if he kept doing the stretches, and demonstrated by touching her toes. Harry saw how much straighter she could point her limbs, with almost no bending at the joints, and wondered if it might affect her aim while duelling.

"Considering we use wands and not our arms and legs, there wouldn't be a big difference," she explained. "But it does allow better control over your wand movements, and probably helps with the more complex patterns."

Harry was already feeling a bit sore when Hermione finally started instructing him in actual dance movements. They were a mixture of different styles; just basic moves that she thought were good for beginners. The only style Harry recognised was 'ballerina', but apparently there were a hundred versions of that too. Rather than trying to grasp the history of dance in a single night, Harry just followed Hermione's lead and tried not to pull anything.

When Hermione brought the session to an end at around midnight, Harry could think of nothing better than returning to bed. Every muscle ached, including several that he didn't know existed. And Hermione said she was starting off gently, too, so he wasn't looking forward to the next session.

"It gets easier," she said, looking perfectly fine except for a flushed face from exertion. "After a week or two, you'll notice the difference."

"Looking forward to it," he muttered.

"Come on, Harry, didn't you have a little fun?" Hermione nudged him as they pulled the invisibility cloak back on.

"Having each individual muscle in my body aching isn't what I call fun."

They descended from the Astronomy Tower somewhat awkwardly, as Harry's legs protested against the act of walking. He was relieved that they wouldn't have to climb the Grand Staircase like this, and the sight of the Fat Lady portrait was about as welcome as a hot bath would be. Unfortunately, it was too late for the latter, but some sleep would work just as well.

"Acromantula," whispered Hermione, and the Fat Lady swung outwards, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the apparently empty corridor.

Harry winced and gritted his teeth as they clambered inside the portrait hole. It felt like every limb was on fire, and he was reduced to a staggered walk. Once they were in the common-room, Harry pulled off the cloak and stuffed it into his deep robe pocket.

Hermione looked a bit guilty. "Sorry," she said, wringing her hands.

"For what?" Harry leaned on the couch to take the weight off his burning calves.

"I may have worked you too hard. Your body isn't used to it yet, and I should have paced you a bit better."

Harry waved it off. "At least I know it's not just because I'm unfit."

"_What_," came a voice from the girl's dormitory staircase, "Have you two been doing?" Professor McGonagall walked out into the common-room, and there wasn't a trace of amusement in her voice. Her face was white and her eyes were bulging slightly.

For some reason, his aching body had the effect of lessening any surprise or embarrassment he might have felt at McGonagall's implication. "Hermione was teaching me to dance, Professor," he replied tiredly.

Hermione pulled the dance book out of her robes and showed it to McGonagall. "I… I thought it would be romantic, Professor." She was having no trouble feeling embarrassed by the looks of her red cheeks.

Colour returned to McGonagall's face as she read the title of the book. "Oh, thank goodness…" she mumbled under her breath. Sternness returned to her tone immediately, but it was no longer tinged with shock. "You're both still out of beds after lights out, and I'm afraid that moonlight dancing lessons are not a sufficient reason to excuse you. Five points from Gryffindor each." When the announcement had no visible effect on them, she raised an eyebrow. "Unless you think ten would be preferable?" That jolted them into motion, and they darted off (or in Harry's case, staggered off) to their respective dormitories.

Harry didn't really care that much about the points; he'd easily make up for it with Quidditch, but there was no point tempting even worse punishment. He barely managed to pull off his robes and don his pyjamas before collapsing on top of the covers. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

><p>To Hermione's credit, after the first few sessions, he barely ached at all afterwards. His flexibility still needed work, but he was now consciously aware that he slouched a little bit and focused on keeping his shoulders back and core out while walking. Ron and Neville poked fun at his awkward gait, but Harry forced himself to keep doing it. Likewise, Hermione had a strange elegance about her that looked slightly out of place on a twelve-year-old. He'd overheard a few of the other girls making fun of her behind her back, but some it seemed to come from jealousy.<p>

His duelling hadn't improved yet, but he felt a little more agile during their frequent sparring matches. Wood still pushed Quidditch training three times a week even though the next game was ages away, and the self-defence class ran twice a week with an optional weekend class, so Harry found himself spending his limited free time doing homework.

Professor McGonagall started assigning extra homework to him and Hermione, as though she could tire them out and break their habit of sneaking out at night. All this ended up accomplishing was making Harry a little more bored each evening. Hermione didn't seem to be affected at all.

Harry began to notice something about his group of friends. Not only was Neville part of it this time, but he and Ron were as close as Ron and Harry had been. It felt… strange to consider he might not be Ron's best friend this time around. They were all close as a group, of course, but there was also no hesitation when they were forced to divide into pairs in class. Harry supposed it had a lot to do with the 'girlfriend' story that he and Hermione were playing along with. Ron would feel like the third wheel if it was just the three of them, so naturally he chose to become better friends with Neville.

_Are we still just playing along, Harry?_ Hermione's thought appeared in his mind, wavering as though she was hesitant to send it.

Harry slammed his Occlumency shields into place and pointedly didn't meet Hermione's eyes. He wasn't prepared to consider anything else right now. Around them, the Great Hall continued to bustle and clink with students enjoying lunch. Hermione didn't test his shields.

Harry felt a brush of displaced air against the back of his neck. He turned slightly and saw Dumbledore walking down the aisle between tables. The old man didn't look his way, but Harry held his shields at full strength until he finished his meal.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore took his place at the staff table, finding his favourite lunch waiting for him. There was no doubting it, the boy had brought up his Occlumency shields before he even knew Dumbledore was nearby. Had young Granger given him some sort of signal? But no, she hadn't been looking his way either. If Harry wasn't raising his shields against Dumbledore, who was he feeling threatened by?<p>

Severus was sitting beside Professor Quirrell, no doubt hounding the poor man. But Dumbledore had been around a long while, and he was beginning to think Severus's suspicions of the Defence teacher weren't quite as unfounded as first thought.

The first clue had been when Quirrell, a man with a particular talent for dealing with trolls, was somehow overwhelmed by a particularly stupid specimen. Severus had been right to take the initiative and watch over Harry in the Quidditch match after that whole incident. Dumbledore himself had performed the initial healing spells on Harry's broken body, and he had never felt such fear as he did while waiting for the Healers to report back. So much could have been lost because of Quirrell's incompetence… so much that said incompetence seemed entirely too convenient for such a talented man.

Dumbledore ate automatically, his mind whirring. Was Harry suspicious of Quirrell as well? Or perhaps Severus? The boy was remarkably astute; it would be foolish to assume he hadn't formed his own suspicions.

And Miss Granger –

Granger. All at once, he remembered sensing an active Legilimens while passing the two. It had been so subtle he hadn't realised it for what it was, focused as he had been on Harry's Occlumency. Now that complicated matters. One cannot probe into another's mind while shielding one's own mind so strongly, so if Harry had been deep behind his shields, the Legilimens must have been Hermione Granger.

Legilimency was more complex than Occlumency, and as such it could not form naturally. Ergo, Granger had learned it herself, and Harry likely had as well. This new discovery raised more questions than it answered. Granger had been using Legilimency on Harry, who had shielded himself from her. Were they arguing about something? Or perhaps…

Dumbledore realised he'd been holding his sandwich but not eating it for at least a minute. Minerva was giving him a curious look, and no doubt she would be in his office later to see what he had been thinking. Dumbledore smiled reassuringly at her, but she seemed to be one of the few people who weren't so easy to calm. He resumed eating and focused on looking unworried.

Before long, the 'perhaps' returned to him. Such beautifully _interesting_ thoughts simply could not be denied for long. If both Harry and Hermione knew Legilimency, they could be communicating constantly through their thoughts. No wonder Minerva never overheard anything of use when she eavesdropped on their evening conversations. He made a note to tell her she could stop; it was making her uncomfortable anyway. Wasn't everyone entitled to private fireside conversations with their loved ones?

Dumbledore watched Harry leave the hall with his friends. Neither he nor Hermione looked at the staff table. The couple walked a little further apart than they normally did; an argument, then? Would they still attend their bi-weekly dancing session tonight? He made another mental note to ask Minerva to check their beds to find out. At least Harry was certainly making good use of his father's cloak. James would likely be quite proud of the fact that his son spent half his time at school breaking curfew.

* * *

><p>The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin had, if not abated, at least simmered down as the Easter holidays approached. Fights were back to being fairly rare, likely due to the fact that most Gryffindor students knew at least a little defensive magic, and the Slytherins rarely learned more than a few mean curses.<p>

The strike at Goyle had passed without notice, but the Weasley twins were still pretty satisfied. "It's hard to want more from life than punching the guy who punched your twin," confessed George. Fred nodded sagely.

Harry and Hermione were now helping Ron and Neville with their homework along with their own. Ron was about as interested in schoolwork as he had been the first time, but Neville had more confidence than before, and as such he was able to apply himself to his work more effectively. Nevertheless, the extra work from their friends left the pair with very little time in which to plan for Quirrell.

On the plus side, Harry felt like he was hitting his stride with the dance lessons. His body felt limber and quick, and he was back to matching Hermione duel-for-duel in the self-defence classes. As they started introducing other non-lethal spells to the class, they began using them in duels. Body-Binds, Leg-Lockers, and Confundus Charms were now flung around the room and bounced off walls and shields.

Hermione went further than just using her newfound spryness, though. She started incorporating pirouettes and slides into her dodging, making it quite a spectacle for the other club members. Harry had so far refused to do the same, sticking with practical weaving and ducking. To his surprise, other students began asking for dodging lessons, and he had to constantly divert them to Hermione. Dancing might have some benefits, but he wasn't quite ready to tell everyone he did it. Malfoy would never shut up if he knew. For that matter, Fred and George definitely wouldn't let him forget it.

Harry spent an evening instructing other members of the class in how to throw off the Confundus Charm (which mostly consisted of "don't lose focus") while Hermione was busy duelling two seventh-year boys. They'd been coming to the class for a few weeks, and despite having seen how dangerous Hermione was in her duels with Harry, they had apparently decided that their age would give them the advantage.

She was playing with them, giggling as she twirled and slid around their spells. Harry had to admit, her reflexes were perfect. Each movement reminded him of seeing his father as a student; he'd played with a snitch to impress other people, letting it fly out of his hand only to snatch it back at the last second. The difference was that young James Potter moved like a viper, fast and precise, while Hermione moved like a hawk in flight, floating, lofty movements that tricked you into thinking she was slow and uncaring, only for her to dive like lightning at the last second and take you unawares. The seventh-years were as defenceless as mice against her.

In quick succession, the boys were sent crashing to the floor as Hermione landed lightly on the balls of her feet. Harry went over to help _enervate _her opponents, and as they did so, he noticed Professor McGonagall watching them from the corner of the classroom. Her expression gave nothing away, but Harry knew she would be reporting everything she saw back to Dumbledore. He ventured a sheepish smile as they led the dazed seventh-years to some chairs on the sidelines, where their friends were laughing. McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Harry went over to watch Ron and Neville. They received a lot more challenges than Harry and Hermione because they just didn't have the advantage of experience and power. They were leagues ahead of any other first-year, but they were still first-years themselves. So while they put up admirable fights against older students, it sometimes wasn't enough. Ron hadn't talked about getting his new wand, and Harry wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. If he was lucky, they'd be able to duck into Ollivander's shop sometime before the next year started and get it without any fanfare.

Neville, on the other hand, still hadn't told them why he was reluctant to get a new wand. Harry knew it was because it was his father's, and was still trying to think of a way to convince him that the sentimentality was holding him back. Obviously he needed a much kinder way of putting it.

Ron was fighting a fourth-year Ravenclaw boy who seemed to think duelling was about throwing as many spells at your opponent as possible. Harry had to duck a stray stunner that came his way, and cast a shield in front of two gawking third-years. "Watch your aim!" he called, but the boy didn't listen. Ron was throwing himself around constantly to avoid getting hit, until he finally got his wand up and yelled "_Protego!"_ A shield expanded between them, and the Ravenclaw boy's last three spells were sent back at him.

Once Ron had _enervated _his opponent, Harry marched over to them. "What was that? You could have hurt someone, throwing spells around like that!"

"Bloody right," said Ron, a bit out of breath.

The boy, who it turned out was named Anthony, snorted and straightened his robes. "It's called tactics. I was keeping him reacting to my spells instead of fighting back." He flipped his long fringe out of his face.

"Do your _tactics_ include hitting innocent bystanders?" Harry growled.

Anthony kept his cocky stance, but a little heat crept up his neck. "It's not like they'd have been hurt. I only used stunners. And besides, you and Granger always cast as many spells as you can when you duel."

"_We_ know what we're doing. What you did was just reckless and showed complete disregard for your surroundings. A duellist must have situational awareness at all times, or they run the risk of hurting someone other than their opponent." Harry stepped closer. "And I'm surprised you think stunners are harmless considering you just took three to the chest. Gentle, were they? Painless?"

During Harry's tirade, Anthony's neck had grown steadily redder. "Alright," he said through gritted teeth. "You've made your point, Potter."

He looked fairly embarrassed, so Harry forced his anger down and gave a smile. "Your volume of fire is impressive, just work on your accuracy."

After a stiff nod, Anthony shrugged at Ron. "Go again?"

"Sure." Ron accompanied him over to an empty space.

Hermione's was suddenly on Harry's wrist, and he was pulled away into a walk around the perimeter of the room. They both studied the duellists-in-training carefully, but Hermione was busy whispering under her breath. "You're a natural leader, Harry, but you're still eleven. Chewing out other students looks a bit funny at the moment." Her voice was tinged with suppressed amusement.

Harry's cheeks burned faintly. "Right. I'll remember that." They walked past Neville demonstrating a Shield Charm to a couple of second-years. Harry nodded to him and nudged Hermione when they were out of earshot. "Do you know what McGonagall's looking for?"

"Just keeping track of our progression, most likely," Hermione replied quietly. "I know we didn't really have a choice, but I regret making our skill so well-known. No doubt Dumbledore is concerned we'll grow tired of the slow pace of classwork and start delving into more questionable magic."

"He wouldn't really believe we'd do something like that, would he?"

She shrugged. "It's what I'd be worrying about." They stopped behind one of the stacks of desks and chairs at the side of the room. "Anyway, Dumbledore's worries are of no concern to us." Her voice was low as she drew a small circle with her wand. Harry knew she was using _muffliato_, a spell that would make any eavesdroppers hear only a faint buzzing noise like static.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry.

"I've been thinking about the Quirrell problem. I think we've been far too idle considering the consequences of failure." Hermione pursed her lips. "If he gets the stone, Voldemort could regain physical form before we're ready to deal with him."

"I could blast him back to his weakened state," Harry said confidently. Through his combat experience and advanced knowledge of Deep Magic, Harry was determined to be a real threat to Tom Riddle this time.

"We don't know that. He's very smart, remember, almost as smart as Dumbledore. And don't forget that we're not the only ones who know about… below." She clearly didn't trust the Muffliato Charm too far.

Harry considered his words carefully. "Quirrell can only get past the final protection of the Stone if there is someone else with him."

Hermione caught his meaning. The Stone could only be retrieved from the Mirror of Erised by someone who didn't want to use it. The only reason Quirrell almost got the Stone last time was because Harry was there. "We don't know that either. Given enough time, he might find another way. I think it would be foolish to underestimate him."

"Alright," Harry conceded. "What should we do?"

"We need to force a confrontation early. Think about what we can do to make Quirrell feel safe enough to go for the Stone."

_Last time, he made the attempt after Dumbledore went to London._ An idea struck Harry. _We can get Dumbledore involved! We can show him that we're not up to anything bad by working with him to trick and catch Quirrell!_

Hermione smiled. _That might work. I'll work on the details and let you know when I have a full plan._

"What would I do without you?" Harry muttered as she dispelled the Muffliato Charm.

Hermione didn't reply, but she had a distinctly pleased air about her as they went back to patrolling the room. McGonagall was standing closer, not looking at them. Had she tried to eavesdrop? If so, she would have been disappointed.

* * *

><p>In the free time of their Friday afternoon, Harry, Ron and Neville were taking turns in wizard chess in the Great Hall. Hermione was in the library, probably still going over the Quirrell plan from a few days ago. Harry knew better than to interrupt her mid-thought, so he just took the chance to enjoy a bit of leisure time.<p>

Neville winced as his remaining knight was beaten to the ground by Ron's queen. Ron grinned cheerfully. "You're being too defensive, Neville. The queen is the most powerful piece on the board, but you barely use it."

"The sharpest sword is useless in the hands of a coward," Harry quoted wearily. He'd lost his queen in the first five moves of the previous match.

"Exactly," Ron nodded fervently. "But Harry has the opposite problem. He's too aggressive and takes a lot of risks, so it's easy to trip him up." He took a bite of his sandwich. "No offensh, Harry."

Harry shook his head and scratched a few more lines of his Transfiguration essay. It was easy enough to count as leisure time. Neville tentatively moved a bishop across the board and looked over at Harry. "Isn't that the essay McGonagall assigned today?" Neville asked.

"Yeah. Figured I might as well get it out of the way."

The other boys shook their heads. "No wonder she's always giving you more work, mate," said Ron. "She probably feels insulted that you get through it so fast."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, probably."

"Checkmate, by the way," Ron added, reaching for the other half of his sandwich. Neville leaned over the chessboard and looked at it from different angles as though the perspective would make his defeat easier to understand, before sitting back down with a sigh.

"Well played," he said glumly.

The floor began to vibrate a little, and Harry turned to see Hagrid walking up the aisle. The huge pockets on his moleskin overcoat were bulging, and he was clearly trying to look inconspicuous. Harry took it as a sign that he had once again been given Norbert by a disguised Professor Quirrell and had been to the library to get books on raising dragons. He'd been hoping to avoid this bit of drama, but since it was already happening, they'd need to get involved or Hagrid could get sacked.

"Hagrid! What've you got there?" Harry asked cheerfully.

"Nothin' at all," said Hagrid, his eyes darting around suspiciously.

"Really? Because it looks like you've got half the library in your pockets." Harry decided he might as well move things along and get it over with. "Do you have a new creature you want to learn about?"

Hagrid hunched his enormous shoulders defensively, his eyes a bit wild at how close Harry was to the truth. "I jus' like to read every now and then, nothin' wrong with tha'."

"Mind if we pay you a visit later?"

"Er, might not be the bes' time…" Harry gave him a suspicious look and Hagrid sighed. "Ah fine, come 'n see me in an hour."

As Hagrid shuffled away, Ron and Neville gave Harry curious glances. "What was that about?" asked Ron.

Harry shrugged and turned back to his essay. "I can tell when Hagrid's hiding something. You two don't have to come if you don't want to."

"We'll come," said Neville. "What do you think he's hiding?"

"Probably something wild and dangerous." To Harry's surprise, neither Ron nor Neville looked nervous. The duelling must have given them a bit more confidence this time around.

"Sounds good," Ron said idly as he reset the chess pieces.

They collected Hermione from the library before going down to Hagrids. She had been reluctant to come since they obviously had bigger things to worry about than Norbert the dragon, but in the end decided that it wouldn't do for Hagrid to get fired because she wasn't there to convince him to give up the dragon.

Once inside the shack and after a few painful rock cakes, they were introduced to the big black egg in the fire. Ron and Neville were gobsmacked, while Harry and Hermione immediately set to work explaining why he can't keep it. Hagrid, true to form, was adamant that there wouldn't be any problems. The group left the hut talking excitedly and worriedly at the same time.

For once, all four of them were involved in late-night hushed conversations. "I've never seen a dragon hatch before. I bet the egg explodes off it, or something," Ron said cheerfully.

"From what I've read, they hatch like anything else," corrected Hermione. "I think even Hagrid might think twice about keeping an exploding egg inside his wooden house."

"Sure about that, are you?" Neville said with a laugh.

Hermione bowed her head. "Alright, good point. Still, I think the problems will only start once it's born. The sooner we get rid of it, the better."

"You don't mean… kill it, do you?" Ron looked mortified. "Charlie'd have a fit if he found out."

"No, of course not."

Harry smiled at the perfect opening Ron gave him. "That's it! Your brother works with dragons all the time, he must know someone who can come pick it up once it's hatched."

"That could work!" Ron sat up in his chair. "I'll send an owl tomorrow – mind if I borrow Hedwig?"

"Go for it."

Harry was rather pleased at how easy this was turning out to be. Hermione inserted a few prideful comments in his mind to say she felt the same.

* * *

><p>They received Charlie's reply, which contained an estimate for when the dragon would hatch based on what Ron had told him as well as the time and date that his friends would pick it up. Harry went down with Ron to tell Hagrid, while Hermione helped Neville with his potions homework.<p>

Hagrid was distraught at discussing the plan when Norbert hadn't even hatched yet, and kept muttering that maybe the dragon would be friendly and easy to hide from people. Harry and Ron exchanged grins; Charlie's letter had made it clear that baby dragons were far from docile.

"Trust us, Hagrid, it's better this way," Harry assured the gamekeeper as he stared at the egg in the fire.

"Norbert should grow up among his own kind, don't you think?" said Ron, who was failing to bite into a rock cake. He gave up and put it back on the table. "He needs other dragons to teach him how to be a dragon."

"I coul' do tha'," Hagrid grumbled.

"Last I checked, Hagrid, you can't breathe fire."

In the end, Hagrid was finally persuaded that it was what's best for Norbert. The week passed with Harry and Hermione eyeing Malfoy every time he was nearby. Neither of them were particularly interested in serving detention in the forest again, especially since Quirrell would be out there drinking unicorn blood.

A surprise visited them during the next self-defence class. Professor Dumbledore was sitting on a desk at the side of the room, watching everything with good humour and occasionally praising good moves from the duellists-in-training. Harry tried to act normally, but it was difficult to concentrate with those twinkling blue eyes following him.

Why would he do this now? Had McGonagall refused to continue to spy on them? At least the headmaster hadn't tried to use Legilimency. In fact, now that Harry thought about it, Dumbledore hadn't tried to get into his mind for the longest time. Was that a sign of trust, or a sign that his Occlumency wasn't good enough to detect him?

No, no, Hermione said it didn't work like that. Dumbledore must have changed tactics. Harry did his best to continue doing the rounds with Hermione and give advice to the other students. To his surprise, Anthony had been working on his accuracy, and now was becoming a decent duellist. In fact, most of the students who had been regularly attending the class were getting to be quite capable. Harry was proud of their progress.

"They are all coming along nicely," said a quiet, older voice. Dumbledore had stridden over to them. "You both make fine teachers."

"Thanks Professor," they replied with modest smiles.

"I must say, I've heard impressive things about your duels. May I request a demonstration?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

_Why is he being so direct?_

_It's better than being deceitful, Harry._ Hermione's voice of reason echoed through his skull.

"Of course, Professor," she replied out loud.

The mood was a little different from usual as the class came to an end and the time came for their regular duel. Harry took his place opposite Hermione and readied his wand. Their audience hushed each other and looked on eagerly. Should he fight as hard as he could? What would Dumbledore expect him to do?

_He will be able to tell if you don't give it your all,_ said Hermione in his mind. _Fight like you mean it, Potter._ He looked up to see her cheeky smile and gave one in return. With a flick of his wand, they began.

Hermione had begun using dance movements in more than just her dodging lately, and Harry no longer hesitated before doing the same. By moving fluidly from step to step, they could combine ducking and weaving with wand movements, thereby keeping a steady stream of spells flying even while reacting to each other's attacks.

Harry cursed under his breath as Hermione dove and rolled in the air before twisting and landing on her feet, missing two of his stunners by inches. She was more flexible than him, though he was getting better. Girls had a natural advantage in that area, anyway. Her grin told him that she was listening to his excuses even as she fired back and forced him to roll to the side and slide on his knees. He flung his wand in a wide arc, sending four different lengths of rope through the air towards Hermione. She turned them to dust but not before he was on his feet and following them up with a couple of full-strength stunners.

Her initial shield shattered, but she dodged to the side while she was obscured by the shield's dissipation, missing his other stunners. Harry felt a mid-strength body-bind come over him and broke it before throwing himself to the side. He hadn't noticed her make the plate-sized shield in the air behind him, nor had he seen the stunner she'd intended to bounce off it, but he knew a distraction when he saw it.

Hermione looked a bit surprised that he'd avoided her trick, so Harry sent four weak stunners and a full-strength body-bind downrange. The body-bind was faster, but while she broke it in moments, the stunners had time to reach her and slam into her chest, throwing her backwards onto the floor.

Harry sprinted over to her as the class applauded. He _enervated_ Hermione and cradled her head on his lap until she was aware enough to sit up. "Good move," she said, wincing as she rubbed her chest.

Grinning, Harry helped her to her feet. "Body-binds," he tutted mockingly, "How shameful." She shoved him playfully.

With the show over, the students were slowly filtering out the door. Harry and Hermione sat on one of the desks watching them go. Dumbledore was watching them over the milling heads, and they knew it would be pointless to try and leave before he'd spoken with them. Finally, when there were only a few kids left, the headmaster wandered over to them.

"I see that, for once, the rumours are not mere hyperbole. I am very impressed by both of you," Dumbledore said kindly. Hermione beamed, and Harry tried to copy her. It was difficult; the man in front of them could unravel all of their plans with one stray suspicion. "I have never seen such creative use of defensive magic, and believe me, that is saying something. You've worked within the limitations of a school self-defence class and still managed to create a style that would be perfectly viable in a true duel. Most impressive."

Harry shrugged, feeling a little awkward at the praise. "We've had a lot of time to practice."

"Indeed you have, despite Professor McGonagall's best efforts." Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles glinted in the light from the windows. "Such diligence deserves recognition. Forty points to Gryffindor."

This time, Harry's grin was real. Plans or not, winning the House Cup in his first year was something Harry definitely wanted to do again. Hermione was smiling too, but she looked thoughtful.

"Professor," she said slowly, "If a student had adequate reason to suspect a member of staff of wrongdoing, what could they do to bring it to the attention of authorities without alerting that staff member?" Harry forced his expression to remain neutral, but his heart was thumping. What the _hell_ was she doing?

Dumbledore's eyes intensified, though he pondered the question for a few moments as though it was a fine riddle. "Assuming that their head of house or headmaster are not the ones under suspicion, they would likely provide the necessary confidentiality while such claims are investigated."

Hermione nodded deliberately. "Thank you, Professor. May we return to the common-room?"

Dumbledore nodded and they left the classroom. Harry resisted the urge to blurt his questions out as they climbed up to the seventh floor. Fortunately, he didn't need to.

_I was only instigating your idea,_ her voice said accusingly. _You're the one who proposed getting Dumbledore involved in catching Quirrell. I just planted the seed that will allow us to do just that._

_Well, for a moment I thought you were accusing Dumbledore of something. Forgive me for panicking a little._

Hermione sniffed loudly. _You really should know me better by now, Harry James Potter._

Great. She only used his full name when she was angry at him. At least that meant he'd be able to go flying tonight instead of the dance lesson with her. Hermione's hand suddenly closed around his. "We're still dancing," she said firmly, with a hint of a knowing smirk on her lips. How do you talk to someone who is constantly a step ahead? Harry hardened his passive Occlumency defences, which just seemed to amuse Hermione even more. By the time they reached the common-room, he'd given up and let her back into his mind. Her absence was now more noticeable than her Legilimency, and it grated on Harry's thoughts sometimes.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore stood alone in the classroom, looking around at some of the scorch marks where stray spells had impacted the walls and ceiling. Taking the direct approach had paid off dividends. Not only was he able to witness their remarkable duelling skills firsthand instead of relying on Minerva, but young Granger had left him with the most interesting of questions.<p>

He doubted they were suspicious of him, if they were, they wouldn't have asked. So who had their attention? Who were these two geniuses gathering evidence on? Granger clearly just wanted to let him know that they were investigating something, so they likely still had some more proof to obtain before they would be ready to come to him with it. But the very fact that they were consulting him at all was a good sign. If he'd persisted with Legilimency, hoping to catch them off-guard, he would have missed this opportunity entirely.

He waved his wand and cleaned up the classroom, something that the young instructors had forgotten to do. Dumbledore paced across the now-spotless floor. Quirrell or Snape. Which were they going after? It couldn't be anyone else; the two professors were behaving the most suspiciously from a student's point of view. Dumbledore suspected their target was Snape; the treatment of Gryffindors by the Potions master would make any of them search for evil behind his actions.

But how far had they taken their investigation? Did they know of the Stone, of the protection around it? Even with this delightful new development, there were still so many things he didn't know. The hunger inside him roared to life once more.

* * *

><p>Norbert was hatching. Hagrid's note arrived at breakfast, and the four of them resolved to go down after Herbology. Ron was excited about seeing a dragon hatch, and as soon as class ended, he led the way down to Hagrid's hut. Neville was a little more cautious and kept asking Hermione about how far babies could spit fire.<p>

The newborn was just as ugly as Harry remembered, though the details had long left his memory. The scraggly little lizard with wings three times its size clambered around the table, hissing and shooting licks of fire from its mouth. Neville shuffled his chair a few feet back from the table.

Harry hated to destroy Hagrid's good mood, but there wasn't much time left. "Hagrid, Charlie's friends will be coming on Saturday." Hagrid wasn't listening, he was busy watching Norbert try to snap at his sausage-like fingers.

"Oh-ho, can't bite Mummy, now…" he crooned.

"Hagrid," Hermione said loudly, "Did you hear? Charlie's friends will be coming to pick up Norbert on Saturday."

Hagrid's smile deflated. "So soon? Can't I just have another week?"

"We agreed this was what's best for Norbert," she said gently but firmly.

The big man sighed as he watched Norbert cough sparks into his beard. "He'll be ready, don't worry."

With no Malfoy to trouble them this time, Harry was feeling a lot better about taking Norbert up to the tower. When the time came, he and Ron went down to Hagrids under the invisibility cloak. Hagrid was in tears as Harry levitated the crate underneath the cloak. Ron looked relieved that they wouldn't have to carry it all the way up.

"He'll be fine, Hagrid. Charlie's brilliant with dragons," Ron said earnestly, patting the gamekeeper on the elbow.

Hagrid sobbed. "_I_ could've been brilliant wit' dragons."

When they returned to the castle, Harry exchanged dubious glances with Ron. "He's mad," muttered Ron.

"I think he just has a warped idea of what's dangerous," Harry said reasonably. "I mean, his skin's probably a lot thicker than ours."

"And fire-resistant."

After a close encounter with Filch, the boys managed to reach the top of the highest tower. The view was phenomenal, though there wasn't a lot of room to move about. While they waited, Norbert started throwing himself about inside the crate. Harry tapped it with his wand. "_Silencio."_ The noise stopped immediately, though the crate still rocked a bit.

"Good thinking," whispered Ron. "I'm not getting bloody detention for the little monster."

Charlie's friends arrived, a couple of them ruffling Ron's hair like he was their little brother. They worked together to string up the crate between the brooms using a big harness.

"Alright, that should be fine," said a woman with short red hair. "If it starts to get loose, we can fix it on the way."

"Are you sure it won't be spotted?" asked Harry.

"It's the middle of the night, who's gonna be watching for a flying crate?"

"All the same, maybe we should put a Disillusionment Charm on it to be safe."

The group looked at him. "Er, you can do that?" said a dark, broad-shouldered man. Harry answered by drawing his wand and tapping the crate. It immediately took on the appearance of the stone floor beneath it. "I don't remember learning _that_ in my first year," laughed the man, and the others made similar remarks. "But nice work, Potter. I feel safer already."

They said their farewells and Harry and Ron watched the fliers disappear into the night. "That's a load off my mind," said Ron, and Harry agreed wholeheartedly.

* * *

><p>Exams were just around the corner, and the self-defence class was getting smaller and smaller every week as students prioritised studying over fighting. Harry kept the class going for any who still wanted to attend, though. Ron and Neville bowed out at the same time; even with Harry and Hermione helping them study, they were still getting bogged down like everyone else.<p>

Harry found himself on edge for more than just exams, though. According to Hermione, they confronted Quirrell last time on the fourth of June, just after their final exam. There was no guarantee that it would work out the same this time, so they had to be ready to strike at any moment.

"If we're going to bring Dumbledore into this, we need to do it soon," said Hermione after a dance session. She reached into her discarded robes and drew her wand out before casting an anti-eavesdropping ward.

"Agreed. But first I think we should slowly introduce the problem to Ron and Neville. Ron was in as deep as we were the first time, and it… well, it was sort of our first big victory together. As a group, you know?"

Hermione smiled. "I concur. Tomorrow, you and I will talk about Nicolas Flamel while they're nearby. When they ask who he is, we'll fill them in on the 'mystery' of the Stone, Fluffy, and our suspicions that somebody is going to steal it."

Wincing, Harry looked out of the open wall into the night sky. "We probably should have dropped some hints earlier. This is going to be a bit sudden."

"We've been busy. Besides, they'll catch on quickly, I'm sure of it."

As it happened, it took five days of hushed conversation to carefully bring Ron and Neville up to speed. They were a bit disbelieving and overwhelmed at first, especially with exam anxiety kicking in alongside the news, but they soon realised how serious it was.

"It's gotta be Snape," said Neville harshly. "He's got evil written all over him."

Ron nodded grimly. "I remember how hard he tried to defend those Slytherins who ambushed us at the lake. He probably gave them the idea, hoping to bump off Harry as a favour to You-Know-Who."

"Snape does seem like the most obvious suspect," Harry said thoughtfully. "I just hope we're not letting our dislike of him blind us to any other suspects."

Ron looked a bit dubious, but Neville slowly nodded in agreement. "Harry's right. We need to be ready for anyone to try and take the Stone, not just Snape."

"I think you're both mad. Snape might as well carry around a big sign saying 'I hate good things', in my opinion." Ron crossed his arms and sat back.

The portrait hole opened and Hermione climbed through, making a beeline for the boys. "I've done it," she said quietly as Harry shuffled along the couch to make room.

"Done what?" asked Neville.

"I put a detection charm on the door to Fluffy." She pulled four black rings from her pocket and handed them out. "If someone gets inside, these will vibrate until you notice them. Wear them at all times."

For once, Harry felt as impressed as the other two boys. "They vibrate until we _notice_ them?" he repeated. "That's even more advanced than usual. Brilliant work."

Hermione reached over and flicked his ear. "I gave you the book with the spell in it about two months ago. You need to keep up with your reading."

"You two must have emptied out the library by now," said Ron, shaking his head as he slipped the ring on his index finger.

Neville was inspecting his like a diamond collector, one eye close and squinting. "What if we're in the middle of an exam when it goes off? Or if it goes off while we're separated?"

"It won't happen during an exam. The teachers have to walk amongst the desks to make sure nobody's cheating. And if it goes off while we're separated, we'll all just need to drop everything and get to the door as fast as possible," said Hermione.

"What if we get there and find Snape breaking in?" Ron asked. "We can't really do anything to stop him, can we?"

"Stunners work on adults as well as kids," Harry said quietly. The others looked a bit nervous at the idea.

* * *

><p>In their final potions class before exam week began, the four Gryffindors were extra watchful of Snape's behaviour. He didn't seem pleased or excited, but they weren't sure he was capable of feeling such emotions anyway, so they kept a close eye on him.<p>

As a bit of entertainment for the Slytherins in the class, Snape spent the last ten minutes giving them a pop quiz. All of the difficult questions happened to be asked of Gryffindor students, and most involved potions that were far above first-year level.

Malfoy and his friends were practically in tears when Snape finally reached Hermione. He fired seventh-year questions at her, which she calmly answered in succession. Harry didn't blame her for wanting a little satisfaction, and Snape's sallow face tightening in anger was one of the sweetest sights you could see.

Harry sensed a burst of Legilimency that made Hermione flinch. He glared at Snape for resorting to such a dirty tactic, and hoped Hermione's Occlumency was up to the task. From the pure hatred in Snape's eyes, it was, and the Legilimency subsided without comment. "Has spending… time… with celebrities given you an unquenchable desire for attention, Granger?" Snape spat, much to the amusement of Malfoy. "Or do you take pride in being such an insufferable know-it-all?"

Hermione didn't miss a beat. "With respect, sir, it's better than being a tolerable idiot," she replied evenly.

There was silence in the room as people registered what just happened. Hermione Granger talked back to a teacher! Harry wanted to laugh until he cried; Ron and Neville looked flabbergasted.

"Out," growled Snape. The class jumped at his tone, even Malfoy. "OUT!"

They didn't need to be told a third time, Harry helped Hermione pack so she would be first out the room, just in case Snape threw a bottle of something after them. When they emerged from the dungeons, the boys were laughing while Hermione struggled to suppress a satisfied smirk.

"You've been waiting a long time to say that, haven't you?" Harry wheezed.

Hermione winked.

The other Gryffindors in their year were equally surprised at Hermione's actions as they were that no points had been taken off for them. Gryffindor was in the lead by almost fifty points, while Slytherin was trailing in third after the lake incident set them back to almost zero. Even with Snape's favouritism they were struggling to catch up. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were looking pleased; Slytherin had held the House Cup for years and everybody was glad to see them get taken down a few notches.

There hadn't been any fights or incidents lately, probably because even Malfoy had to study for exams, so the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was reduced to name-calling and loud, rude comments at meal times. The rings Hermione had made were noticed, and many comments about marriage and children were forthcoming.

Harry and Hermione became convinced that, after Quirrell's previous failed attempts to get the Stone, only Dumbledore's absence would make him brave enough to expose himself. This was very unfortunate, because it meant that the idea of getting Dumbledore involved early simply wasn't going to work. Geniuses or not, he wasn't about to leave the school because they asked nicely, especially not if he knew they were planning to take on the thief on their own.

It bothered them both, but Harry most of all. It was another roadblock preventing a big difference from the original sequence of events. The niggling fear that certain things couldn't be changed kept him awake at night. Why hadn't he hunted Quirrell in the forest? He could have exposed him right then and there, in front of Hagrid perhaps. So many missed opportunities came to mind as the days wore on that Harry wondered if fate was teasing him.

For their part, the four Watchers of the Stone (as Ron had named them while putting on a dramatic voice) felt bound by an invisible cord of duty, something that set them apart from the other students. They studied and fretted about exams alongside the rest of them, but they had the constant knowledge that at any point, they could be called into action. Hermione checked her ward every couple of days to make sure it was still functioning, though Harry had the feeling he'd know if Quirrell succeeded.

His scar pain around the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was easy to manage with a bit of Occlumency, but he knew it would become a lot harder to withstand if Voldemort regained a physical form. Harry remembered the night in the graveyard of Little Hangleton, when that slim, nightmarish figure stepped out of the cauldron, scarlet eyes burning a hole in Harry's mind...

Hermione slipped her arm through his. _It won't be like that, this time, _her voice said.

_I hope not._ He held her a little tighter.

Exam week began, and the Watchers of the Stone were caught up in the flurry of revision and panic along with everyone else. Piles of notes and books filled the common-room, and harrowed-looking students chewed straight through the nibs of their quills and drummed their fingers ceaselessly. Even the usually-entertaining antics of Gryf the pig were doing nothing to relieve the tension.

Transfiguration came and went, and Defence Against the Dark Arts followed after. Potions was the most frightening for Ron and Neville, but once they realised Snape wasn't the one marking their work, they calmed down a bit. Tuesday gave them a reprieve with only Astronomy to prepare for. With Wednesday came Charms and Herbology, leaving History of Magic for Thursday.

Harry had a sinking feeling as they walked out of their final exam. He'd been expecting, hoping even, for Quirrell to try something early, just for confirmation that things could be changed drastically. Hermione told him that if they could make small changes, they could make big changes.

"Our lives aren't predetermined, Harry. We just haven't done anything to alter the original sequence of events too significantly." The Muffliato Charm surrounded them as they sat on the grass near the lake. Ron and Neville were laughing at the giant squid as it flopped about in the shallow water, splashing the Weasley twins. "It's a good thing, too, because if we change too much too quickly, we lose the advantage of foresight. Everything is going to be fine." She added the last bit in a softer voice.

"Who are you trying to convince?" asked Harry.

**A/N**

**Almost time for the end of year break! Enjoy the similarities to the original story while you can, because this timeline is going to get _funky._**


	7. Chapter 6: The Seventh Chamber

**ATTENTION: The next chapter has also been posted, so you can just go straight on after you finish this one! Merry Early Christmas! (You can also skip this one if you don't want to watch the Quirrell encounter!)  
><strong>

**Chapter 6: The Seventh Chamber  
><strong>

Severus Snape strode quickly down the corridor. Moonlight shone through the occasional window, illuminating his path. The final exams were over, and most students and teachers would be relaxing after the stressful week. Snape would normally be relaxing on his own, far from the rest of the staff, but this year was different.

Professor Quirrell had aroused Snape's suspicion almost immediately. The man spent every waking moment behind his Occlumency shields, and his chambers were heavily warded at night. Just what exactly did he fear within the castle? For such a supposedly talented wizard, Quirrell was weak-willed and easy to intimidate. He was either pretending, or something he'd found in Albania had broken his will.

Yes, there was no doubting it was his trip to Albania that had brought about this change, but he refused to speak of it. What horrors could a man encounter that would turn him into a stuttering, nervous wreck?

Unless, of course, it was an act. Snape knew all about maintaining a cover story while under pressure. So he'd pressured Quirrell, bullied him, coerced him, looking for the slightest crack. But the man held himself well. He spluttered and shrunk under Snape's gaze, but he never said more than he meant to. But was it from perfect self-control, or was there nothing of value within Quirrell after all? These doubts had haunted Snape throughout the year, to the point where he'd brought his concerns to the headmaster.

Dumbledore had shown very little interest in the idea at first, but after the troll incident, he started paying attention. That entire episode was handled so poorly by Quirrell that Snape was certain it happened on purpose, and he knew Dumbledore was coming around to the same thought. Quirrell had displayed none of his purported talent with trolls, which was even more incriminating as he had easily brought a troll in as his part of the Philosopher's Stone's defences. How is it that this one troll would get out of hand, when the other was contained without any issue whatsoever?

Quirrell was up to something.

With Dumbledore aware of the inconsistencies as well, Snape didn't think Quirrell would dare try anything. Whatever his plan was, only a fool would defy Albus Dumbledore in his own school.

Which was why Snape was hurrying to Quirrell's office. McGonagall had informed him only minutes ago that Dumbledore's presence had been requested in London, and he had already left the school. If ever there was a perfect opportunity for Quirrell to further his goals, this would be it.

Snape arrived at the entrance to Quirrell's office. It wasn't warded, but it was locked. Snape drew his wand and burst through the door. The office was empty, but there were papers on the floor and a strange smell in the air. Quirrell had left in a hurry. Snape walked forward carefully, his wand out and constantly searching for the slightest disturbance that might indicate a trap.

The smell grew stronger as he neared the messy desk in the centre of the room. Snape sidestepped slowly around it, though something was nagging at his memory. On the other side of the desk, there were a few drops of silvery liquid. The smell was distasteful and, even worse, distracting from the problem at hand, so Snape drew up his Occlumency shields in order to concentrate.

His memory became clear at once, and the smell became even more disgusting as he realised what the liquid was.

Unicorn blood.

* * *

><p>Harry stared out the Gryffindor common-room window.<p>

Most students had already gone to bed, since lights out was in a few minutes. The Watchers of the Stone had no such luxury. Hermione sat on the couch with her nose in a book, while Neville and Ron practiced a few Shield Charms nearby.

"Why tonight?" Ron asked for the third time. "We haven't stayed up on lookout for the past week, so what makes tonight different?"

"Because, Ronald," Hermione replied patiently, "This is logically the most opportune time for someone to go for the Stone. Everyone is exhausted from celebrating the end of exams, including the teachers. Even Filch would be busy cleaning up on the ground floor, leaving Fluffy's door completely unwatched."

Ron yawned and turned back to Neville. "You'd have to be mad to lose sleep messing with a three-headed dog."

"I think, from Voldemort's perspective, the reward outweighs the risks," Harry said quietly, not looking away from the window. He didn't need to see Ron and Neville to know they cringed at the name. It was so peaceful out there.

A loud throat-clearing got everyone's attention. Percy stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase leading to the boy's dormitory. He was in his striped pyjamas and had his arms folded in a stern manner. "Why aren't you four in bed?"

"We still have a few minutes until lights out," said Ron irritably. "Did you get out of bed just to come and bother us?"

"No, I came because everyone can hear you shouting '_protego_' over and over again." Percy scowled at his brother. "Just keep it down and go to bed." The Prefect's gaze shifted between Harry and Hermione. "And that means _all_ of you. Don't make Professor McGonagall send you off again. She's probably more exhausted than you are."

Harry gave a flat look and silently turned back to the window. His gaze shifted to the stars, and he noticed a bright red speck standing out among the white specks. It had a curious glow about it, but it seemed different from the other stars. Harry leaned on the windowsill, his nose almost touching the glass.

"It's Mars," Hermione whispered beside him. He hadn't noticed her approach. "The bringer of battles." That didn't exactly put him at ease. Hermione's hand slipped around his, and together they watched the stars.

The rings began to vibrate.

Neville and Ron gasped behind them, but Harry just closed his eyes and sighed. It seemed that this night, at least, would play out the same as before. In fact, everything this year had played out too familiarly for comfort. Hermione might think it was a good thing; that it would make their foreknowledge more useful, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that they were excuses. Surely _something_ big would have changed after everything they'd done this year. Had none of their actions affected Quirrell's plans? It was disturbing to contemplate. Were they doomed to live out the same lives as before, just with slight differences?

_No._ Hermione's voice was as firm as steel, as it always was when he started thinking like that. _I tested the Trace, remember? We're going to get work done over the summer, and then you'll see just how much of a difference we're making. This year _was_ fortunate to have played out in almost exactly the same way, because it means we have a familiar base on which to plan big changes. Trust me, Harry._

Harry wasn't fully convinced, but there was no time to worry about it now. He didn't want to be proven wrong by Voldemort regaining his body in their first year. Turning to his friends, he drew his wand. "Let's move." They nodded and pulled their wands out as well.

"Where do you think you're going?" said Percy, stepping out of the boy's dormitory staircase. He crossed his arms and glared at each of them. "Lights out was precisely three minutes ago. I gave you an _extra three minutes_ to go up to bed, and you repay me by sneaking out?"

Harry was only half-listening, he'd pulled the invisibility cloak from his robe pocket and was walking towards the portrait hole. "We really can't stay to chat, Percy."

"STOP!" Percy bellowed. "Do you have any idea how many house points this will cost us? How do you think Professor McGonagall will respond when you four lose Gryffindor the House Cup?"

"This is a bit bigger than that," Ron snapped, before following the others out into the corridor.

Once the four of them were under the invisibility cloak (they had to duck and squeeze in close to make sure their feet weren't visible), they set off for the third floor. Percy shouted at them from the portrait hole, but none of them listened.

The Watchers of the Stone moved as quickly as they could without revealing themselves. It wouldn't do to have Filch drag them away while Quirrell was busy with the Mirror of Erised. Even worse, they could run into Snape, who certainly wouldn't believe they were out of their beds for very good reasons.

Their rings had stopped vibrating as soon as they left the common-room, apparently satisfied that their warnings were being heeded. The Grand Staircase was helpful for once and they reached the third floor without interruption.

At the door to Fluffy, Harry pulled the cloak off. "Everyone stay calm and we'll be fine," he said quietly. The others nodded, and he pushed the door open.

Inside, the great, three-headed dog sniffed and growled before clambering to its feet. A discarded harp lay near the trap door. At least this part wasn't going to be a problem. With a flick of his wand, the harp floated into the air and began to strum on its own. Fluffy immediately began to sway, its growls softening, before rolling onto its side and starting to snore.

"Well that was simple," whispered Ron. "How'd you know it would fall asleep like that?"

"Hagrid let it slip once," replied Harry. Technically true.

Hermione walked over to the trap door and opened it. "It's quite a drop." They gathered around the hole, peering into the darkness below.

"Listen," Harry said, feeling compelled to speak. "It could get pretty nasty down there." Hermione shook her head ruefully. She'd probably been expecting this. "If anyone wants to back out now, I won't think any less of them," Harry continued, giving Hermione a stubborn glare.

"We're wearing the rings, aren't we?" said Neville, raising his chin. The amount of pride in his eyes gave Harry a surge of affection for his friend.

"We're the Watchers of the Stone, Harry," Ron added seriously. "We'll stop whoever it is, whatever the cost."

Harry looked to Hermione as well, though he knew he didn't have to. She smiled at him. "I'll follow you anywhere, Harry."

"I wouldn't want to do this with any other people in the world," Harry said firmly, meeting each of their eyes. Then he stepped over the hole and dropped like a needle into the black.

Had he fallen for so long the first time? Displaced air buffeted him as he tried to twist his body so he wouldn't land on anything important. The Devil's Snare rushed up to meet him, and he braced for impact. He hit it with force, but the springy plant easily absorbed his momentum.

With three more soft _smacks_, the other Watchers landed around him. This time, Harry was aware of the vines subtle slipping around his limbs. "Bloody hell," exclaimed Ron. "How deep does the school go?"

"I don't think even the founders could tell you that," Hermione replied, raising her wand arm to keep it free from vines. "But I think we have more pressing matters." She nodded at Ron's torso, and he looked down to see a thick leafy tendril had wrapped itself around his torso.

Neville moaned as he too was taken by the plant. Harry simply sat there calmly, watching them. "What is this thing?" Ron shouted, trying to rip the vine away.

"Devil's Snare," replied Hermione without the slightest trace of concern. A jet of blue flames shot from her outstretched wand into the centre of the plant. Harry imagined the Devil's Snare screaming on a frequency they couldn't hear, though he didn't know if it actually could. The plant retreated from the fire, freeing them. "It doesn't like fire," she added. Harry raised an eyebrow at her. Was that a little cockiness he detected in her voice? Her sudden blush told him all he needed to know.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he said as though addressing the group, but he was looking at her.

"Yes, it will likely get more difficult as we continue," Hermione agreed primly, leading the way over to the door leading into a dank passageway. Ron and Neville were rubbing at their limbs where the vines had held them.

"Two down," said Ron.

Neville grimaced. "Hopefully we can face the next one on our feet."

Just before they reached the door leading to Flitwick's flying keys, Harry stopped them. All three of his friends looked exasperated. "Harry, we're already down here. If you're about to tell us it's going to be dangerous–" Ron began, but Harry was shaking his head.

"No, I know you're all on board. I just think we should get a plan together. As far as I can see, there are three possible people we might encounter down here." They were listening attentively now. "If it's Snape, we stun first and ask questions later. If it's Quirrell or somebody else, spread out to either side of me and keep your wands on them. If it's Voldemort…" Ron and Neville stiffened. "I want him to myself." They nodded, faces hardening. Hermione gave no sign indicating what she thought of his speech, instead pushing the door open.

The glittering charmed keys fluttered around the top of the tall, arching chamber. Harry marched over to the next door and jabbed his wand at the lock, murmuring under his breath.

"I think – are those keys?" Neville said disbelievingly.

"No, they're birds…" Ron squinted upwards. "No way! This must be Flitwick's one."

"I agree," said Hermione. "Which is why I think you're wasting your time, Harry. Flitwick had days, maybe weeks to work on this place."

Harry gritted his teeth irritably before taking some deep breaths to quash his anger. Hermione was right – as always – and while Harry could detect the first layer of magical defences on the door, it would take more time than they had to get through it and the subsequent layers. "Alright," he said evenly, "I suppose we're doing it the way it was intended, then."

Hermione was already walking over to the broomsticks against the wall. "We'll need to coordinate our movements to trap the right key. Harry's the Seeker, so he'll be the one to grab it."

"Er," Ron and Neville looked at each other, "Which key is it?"

It was Harry and Hermione's turn to exchange glances. "We don't know." Damn, they were getting ahead of themselves after all. "Do either of you have any ideas?" asked Harry with a shrug, acutely aware of the seconds ticking away. Surely they'd saved some time on Fluffy and the Devil's Snare… but how close a schedule were they working to here?

Neville kept peering up at the swarm, but Ron got a thoughtful look on his face and walked over to the door. "The key would match the lock, right? So we need a big silver one – maybe a little battered or old."

Harry shivered a little at hearing Ron's words repeated almost exactly as they had been the first time. A spike of focus from Hermione in his mind stopped him from getting side-tracked, however. "Everyone mount up, the sooner we find it the better."

Soon, the Watchers were drifting slowly around the upper reaches of the room. The keys avoided them, flitting between each flier without coming too close. Even knowing exactly what the key looked like, Harry still had to search for it with everyone else. Fortunately, he wasn't the youngest Seeker in a century for no reason, and after some careful manoeuvring, they managed to trap and catch the key.

Every minute was agonising now. They were wasting time! If Voldemort regained his body, what would they do? No, he wouldn't be able to do it straight away; he'd need to brew the potion first. Quirrell could be intercepted even if he got the Stone. Maybe they should just wait? Set some traps? Was that the rational thing to do? Annoyingly, he found himself craving Hermione's opinion. He wanted to reach a conclusion on his own for once.

_You still have the chance,_ Hermione's voice replied, _because I don't know. If you want to stay here and set traps, we'll do that. If you want to push on and fight Quirrell again, then that's what we'll do. I don't have all the answers._

Harry jammed the key into the lock, still unsure, and they progressed onto McGonagall's giant chess set. The tall chessmen stood like sentinels in the dim light.

"You must be joking," breathed Ron. "D'you suppose we have to play to get across?"

"Looks that way," said Neville nervously. "It better not be me. I'm rubbish."

"So am I," said Harry.

Hermione just looked at Ron expectantly. His ears went red. "A-are you sure? I mean, this is important."

"You're amazing at chess, Ron," Harry said patiently. Hermione and Neville agreed.

"Yeah, but this… it looks like we'll have to take the place of the pieces… someone could get hurt if I screw up."

"You've got the ability, Ron," said Neville quietly. "But the sharpest sword is useless in the hands of a coward."

After a deep breath, Ron nodded grimly. "Harry, take the right rook's place. Hermione, the right bishop. Neville, I'm sorry mate, but you're the bloody queen." The boys gave each other a grin.

"What about you?" asked Neville.

"I'll be the left knight."

The pieces Ron had indicated all walked off the board as the Watchers took their places.

The game began. With time and experience on his side, Harry was able to keep track of the game, though he still didn't understand some of the moves. It occurred to Harry that even after all these years, chess still didn't come as naturally to him as it did to his eleven-year-old friend. It just seemed to _click_ with Ron in a way Harry had never experienced. Granted, the fact that before traversing the time-stream, he hadn't touched a chessboard in five years probably played a part, but still.

Their pieces flew around the board, giving as good as they got. Neville was the most active next to Ron, saving Harry and Hermione from tight situations several times. As the game went on, Harry watched Ron's expression slowly darken. Would _this_ end the same way as well?

"There's only one way I can end this," Ron announced. "I'll have to sacrifice myself."

"No!" Harry growled. Damn it, something had to change! They were firmly attached to destiny's railroad right now, and _something had to change_ or he was going to lose it!

Ron shook his head. "It's gotta happen. Neville, you'll be able to move four spaces diagonally towards Hermione, and you'll checkmate the king."

"Are you certain there's no other way?" Hermione asked worriedly, glancing at Harry, probably feeling his growing panic attack.

"I'm sure." After a mutual nod with Neville, he steeled himself. "The sharpest sword," he said softly, before making his move.

The enemy bishop smacked Ron to the ground and dragged him off the board. Neville darted across to his square, and the king threw his crown at their feet. The three remaining Watchers looked desperately over at their unconscious friend. Harry's hands were shaking, and he was close to needing Occlumency to keep control. Wide, livid eyes glinting scarlet – Cedric falling to the ground in a flash of green light – Sirius falling through the veil – not again not again not again –

"No," said Hermione. Her wand flicked, and Ron levitated into the air and floated over to them. She laid him on the floor and drew her wand over his head, muttering under her breath. Harry and Neville watched, their hearts in their mouths, as Ron stirred and opened his eyes.

As Neville crouched to help his friend sit up, Hermione gave Harry a strong, piercing stare.

_Is that a big enough change for you?_ Her voice echoed in his skull.

He stared back, his breathing returning to normal. _Big enough for now._

_I told you, if we can make small changes, we can make big changes. It-will-not-happen-again!_

Harry knew she was talking about the awful memories that flashed through his mind moments before. When his hands finally stopped shaking, he felt wearier than before. _Are you ever wrong?_

_Often. I still cringe about how I handled that 'hubris' problem months ago. It was my fault you got hurt by the troll._

Before he could vehemently deny that, she turned back to the others. Ron was a bit unsteady on his feet, but other than a lump on his forehead, he seemed fine. Harry supposed McGonagall was a bit unlikely to make a defence for the Stone that just straight up murdered anyone who wasn't good at chess.

"Are you alright to go on?" Neville asked Ron.

"Yeah, I'm fine… was a bit dazed for a minute, but everything's clear now." He shook his head. "I don't really want a rematch though, so can we get out of here before _they_ get impatient?" The chessmen weren't doing anything threatening, but their heads followed the Watchers as they finished crossing the board and went through the next door.

The stench hit them as soon as they entered the room. Quirrell's troll was passed out on the ground with a welt on its head. Ron touched his own forehead and winced. "Do you think Snape made the troll sacrifice itself on the chessboard?"

Nobody answered as they stepped over the sausage-like fingers and edged around to another door. "How many is that?" Neville whispered.

"We've done Hagrid, Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall, and this must be Quirrell's chamber. That leaves…"

"Snape," Ron and Neville snarled together as Harry led the way into the potions chamber. Fire sprang up behind them and in the passage ahead, sealing the exits.

The various bottles sat on a table, accompanied by Snape's riddle. Hermione read it aloud and set about thinking it over again.

"They're probably all poison, and the key's under the table," Neville said, crouching to have a look. He rose a second later, shaking his head.

"That's thinking like a Slytherin, alright," said Ron. "The fire might be an illusion that only burns you if you drink one of the potions."

They started trading increasingly abstract plans-within-plans, to the point where when Hermione announced she'd solved the riddle, it took them a few seconds to notice. She picked up the bottle that would allow them to progress onwards and tapped it with her wand. The bottle split and became two, then four identical bottles.

"Once we drink these, we'll need to go straight through the flames," said Hermione, handing out the bottles. "Whoever is trying to steal the Stone will be there, so we need to be prepared to act decisively."

"Do you all remember the plan?" Harry asked, preparing to uncork his potion.

"If it's Snape, stun him without waiting," said Neville.

"If it's Quirrell or somebody else, spread out and get ready," said Ron.

"If it's Voldemort, stand back and let you take him," said Hermione, her eyes seeing straight into his soul.

"Right," said Harry. "Bottom's up."

Together, they swallowed the icy potion and stepped through the flames.

The Mirror of Erised stood in the centre of the chamber, reflecting Quirrell's irritated expression. Harry walked forward, only dimly aware of his friends spreading to either side of him. His scar prickled as he stared at the back of Quirrell's turban. _If only we didn't have the Horcruxes and knots holding us back… I could end it right here. We could just go through school normally._ It was an attractive fantasy.

The four Watchers held their wands towards the would-be thief. Ron and Neville's faces were painted with surprise, but their hands were steady. Hermione was in a half-crouch that Harry recognised from the beginning of their duels together. He had no idea how this was going to play out.

_We should focus on our goals_, he thought, hoping Hermione was listening. _Kill Quirrell, protect the Stone._

_There's a problem_, she replied. _Should we destroy him with spells, or should we get him to touch you so your mother's protection can kill him?_

_Whichever way it works out._ Harry thought that was a non-issue.

_If you destroy him with your mother's protection, he will become aware of it and take it into account when he plans his rebirth. The question is, how can we use this to our advantage?_

Harry gritted his teeth. _Why didn't you bring this up before?_

_Because I didn't think of it before! I'm not infallible!_

_Alright, I've got a plan._

"Quirrell!" Harry growled. "You're the one trying to steal the Stone!"

Quirrell turned and gave the children a condescending smile. "And what is this? Dumbledore's last line of defence?"

"We're the Watchers of the Stone!" Ron snarled, showing his ring.

Laughing derisively, Quirrell snapped his fingers. Harry and Hermione whipped their wands through the air, banishing the ropes as they appeared. Ron and Neville, who had probably been waiting for Quirrell to draw his wand, were caught and bound tightly. Quirrell smiled deeply. "Perhaps there is some truth to the stories I've heard of your duelling club. But stunning spells and shield charms won't save you here, Potter. You and your friends are far too nosey to leave alive. Though I must say, it was very helpful of you to get stomped on by my troll at Hallowe'en. You drew Dumbledore's full attention in moments. If it weren't for Severus's intervention, I might have seized the Stone that night."

"Snape stopped you?" said Neville disbelievingly, forgetting to struggle against his ropes for a moment. He had been more open to the idea of suspects other than Snape, but that was a far cry from believing that Snape was on their side the whole time.

Hermione twisted her wand, and the ropes around Ron and Neville disintegrated. They quickly raised their wands again. Quirrell watched with a mocking smirk. "How did you draw Dumbledore away tonight?" she asked.

"A simple forged letter from the Ministry of Magic. It was easy. The old man is losing his touch," said Quirrell dismissively.

"You think you could fool Dumbledore?" Hermione laughed harshly. "You, who was so easily recruited by a far lesser wizard?"

Quirrell's smile vanished. "My master is the greatest wizard to ever have lived, girl. My imminent success is proof of that."

"You didn't fool Dumbledore," Harry said. "He's suspected you all year. He's probably returned from London by now, walking through the corridors, coming here to _get you!_"

A flash of nervousness crossed Quirrell's face. "And how would you know that?"

"They are… stalling… lying..." rasped another voice coming from Quirrell's turban. Ron and Neville gasped in horror.

"Yes… yes, of course master. The Stone… how does this blasted mirror work?" Quirrell waved his hand at the Watchers, catching them in four body-binds that Harry and Hermione didn't bother blocking. He then turned back to the Mirror of Erised and began waving his fingers over it.

Harry waited until Quirrell began murmuring under his breath before quietly breaking the body bind. Hermione did the same for herself, Ron, and Neville. Together, they raised their wands once more. Harry felt no desire to continue the charade.

His Cutting Charm slashed across Quirrell's back, spraying blood across the Mirror and floor. Two voices roared in pain. It wasn't a full-strength one, but it was still a deep cut. Quirrell's turban unravelled as he collapsed against the Mirror. Ron and Neville recoiled in horror from the bone-white, red-eyed face glaring back at them. Harry watched its features contort in pain with animalistic relish.

"Voldemort!" he roared, running forwards. He wanted to do this with his bare hands again. Even as the prickle in his scar grew more and more pronounced, he maintained his resolve. _I'm not a child this time! I can take it!_

Quirrell was struggling to his feet, soaked in blood, when Harry collided with him, slamming him into the Mirror. It didn't shatter, but then an eleven-year-old body only has so much momentum. Harry held the back of Quirrell's neck – or the front of Voldemort's – and drew his wand back, as though about to finish him off.

The blistering skin under his hand made it clear that wasn't necessary. His scar felt like it was splitting open as Voldemort and Quirrell screamed, one from pain and the other for blood. Quirrell tried to draw away, but he was against the Mirror and had nowhere to go. Harry reached around and pressed his hand against Quirrell's face, and the pain intensified tenfold. Unconsciousness beckoned, but Harry drew back before it could take him.

Harry stumbled away from Quirrell, watching him shriek as his body burned from magic far greater than he had ever known.

Hermione was suddenly at his side, clinging to his shoulder. Ron was on the other side, slipping an arm around Harry for support. Harry realised he was unsteady on his feet, and gladly accepted their help. The Watchers stood together, watching Quirrell's last, agonising moments.

"Come away from him!" called Albus Dumbledore, striding through the flames and dispelling them. "Come away, now!" Harry let himself be steered towards the entrance. Dumbledore crouched before him and took his head in his hands, blue eyes searching green. Harry felt the tingle of medical spells on his skin, and saw the relief in Dumbledore's serious expression. At some point during the examination, Quirrell stopped screaming.

"You have been very brave," Dumbledore said quietly, which created great contrast with the lack of sound from the other end of the room. "All of you." The headmaster looked around at the others.

"Is… is You-Know-Who dead?" asked Neville, his voice cracking.

"No. He has left the school, though, for he cannot harm us without a body. Come. There is nothing more for us here." Dumbledore gently herded them back through the entrance.

"But sir," said Hermione, "What about the Stone?"

"It is safe. I think it is time I had a very overdue chat with a very old friend."

"Nicolas Flamel."

Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed."

Harry just walked silently, feeling numb after the pain from before. He focused on not walking like someone who'd just been smacked by a troll. It was over, and it was _just_ different enough to give him hope.

When they emerged back into the castle proper, Professor McGonagall met them, her face white with worry. "I received your Patronus, Albus – what has happened?"

"Minerva," Dumbledore said soothingly, "Please accompany Mister Weasley and Mister Longbottom, along with Miss Granger, to the hospital wing. I do not believe they are hurt, but I would prefer that Poppy looked them over herself."

"We want to stay with Harry," Neville said firmly. Ron nodded in agreement, and Hermione took Harry's hand. He felt a great surge of love for each of them.

McGonagall looked about to admonish Neville for talking back, but Dumbledore just smiled. "I suppose you should all come with me, then. I do not believe I possess the power to separate friends who have been through such an ordeal." He turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, if you will kindly alert the other heads of house that an unsuccessful attempt to steal the Stone has been made, I would be most appreciative." Dumbledore lowered his voice. "Professor Quirrell has taken a leave of absence."

They left McGonagall looking shocked, and followed Dumbledore down the corridor. Harry noticed his friends were still crowding around him a bit. "I'm alright, really," he insisted.

"No offence mate, but you just punched You-Know-Who in the face," said Ron. "There's no telling what kind of curses he might have put on you."

"I could feel – I saw you were in pain," Hermione said quickly. "I think you almost passed out from the strain."

"It was my scar," said Harry, rubbing it idly. The pain had faded with Quirrell's life. "I think it's connected to Voldemort somehow." Dumbledore remained silent as he led them to his office, but Harry knew he was listening intently.

"Don't say his name," Ron muttered automatically, looking around as though Voldemort was hiding behind an alcove.

"We just faced him, Ron. The real him. He'll hate us no matter what we call him, so why bother giving him the satisfaction of knowing you're scared of his name?" Harry said, meeting his friend's eyes intently.

"Yeah," Neville agreed softly. "He's the one who fled, not us. He should be scared of _our_ names."

After a few moments, Ron took a deep breath. "Voldemort," he said loudly, "Is a wanker." Dumbledore pretended to hum while the Watchers held back laughter.

"Voldemort is a prick," said Neville, a grin spreading across his face.

"Voldemort is an utter fool," Hermione said, giggling slightly.

"Voldemort," Harry said, smiling broadly, "Just got his arse kicked by a bunch of first-years."

They laughed openly now, leaning on each other as they followed Dumbledore. Harry couldn't see his face, but he had the distinct feeling that the headmaster was smiling.

Inside Dumbledore's office, the four kids took their seats on one side of the desk, while the headmaster took his place on the opposite side. He considered them for a moment over his clasped hands.

"You have been through something that would make most adults faint at the mere thought, yet you have recovered well enough to laugh about it afterwards," he said. "This shows tremendous strength of character. I want each of you to know that your bravery and loyalty to each other is inspiring." They all sat a little taller, even Harry. "I also know that it would be futile to request to speak to Harry alone."

Harry shrugged and smiled tiredly. "I'd just tell them everything anyway." What time was it? It was probably well past midnight by now, surely.

"As I thought." Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "I imagine you must have some questions for me. I will answer truthfully, or not at all. You have my word that I will not do the latter without very good reasons."

"Why did my scar hurt so badly when I was touching Quirrell?" Harry asked immediately. His exhausted mind was more interested in seeing what Dumbledore would come up with than finding any real answers.

"When your mother gave her life for you, she gave you a certain protection from Voldemort that he cannot fathom. It is the reason his Killing Curse rebounded on him, that night," Dumbledore replied simply. "You are correct in believing your scar is a link between you and him, and while I know it was painful to endure, I can assure you it was a thousand times more so for him."

Harry was shocked. He hadn't expected the plain truth. "And why did he decide to try and kill me at all?" He decided to push it.

Dumbledore was quiet for a few seconds. "Alas, Harry, I must save that answer for another time. If you do not discover it yourself first, of course." Harry tried to look thoughtful, but inside he was a little irritated. The prophecy didn't matter to him, but the fact that Dumbledore was keeping information back despite Harry's maturity being leagues above the average eleven-year-old annoyed him.

"He must have seen me as a threat for some reason. Could he have had foreknowledge of this night, somehow?" Harry felt a spike of alarm in his mind from Hermione. _You're straying into dangerous waters, Harry._

"I do not believe that he did," said Dumbledore, "But I promise to tell you all that I know another time."

Harry fell silent, thinking. "Professor," Ron piped up, "What was with that mirror in the last chamber?" Dumbledore cheerfully began to explain, but his eyes kept drifting back to Harry.

* * *

><p>For once, Harry Potter didn't underestimate the power of the rumour mills. He went to bed knowing the entire school would be buzzing by breakfast, and he wasn't disappointed. The Watchers of the Stone went down to the Great Hall together, and they drew eyes and whispers from almost everyone.<p>

"Is this what it's like for you every day, Harry?" Ron asked, his ears red from the attention.

"More or less," Harry shrugged.

"I'm glad I'm not famous."

Harry laughed and dug into his eggs on toast. He was feeling a lot better with the summer holidays on the horizon. Maybe they really would be able to get a lot of work done before the second year started. Lucius Malfoy… the diary… maybe get a few knots out of the way – even a Horcrux or two, if they were lucky. Without the Trace, there were so many possibilities! He was sure he could persuade Hermione to help him break out Sirius early. Maybe they could arrange it so that Pettigrew 'accidentally' revealed himself in public… it would have to be very visible, or Fudge might find a way to make it disappear to save himself the embarrassment. Come to think of it, Fudge was going to be a different problem altogether.

"I've got plans for him," Hermione said quietly. She looked pleased that Harry was feeling better.

"Glad to hear it. What do you think of my priorities?" _Namely, killing Lucius first._

_I was unsure at first, but it may actually work out very well,_ Hermione's voice said, _I've already integrated it with my plan for Fudge._ "Your instincts are usually right, Harry," she said out loud.

"Hey," said Ron, "Have either of you seen our rings?"

"I _know_ I left mine on my bedside table, but it's gone." Neville patted his pockets hopefully. "I wouldn't lose it."

"I took them back while you were all sleeping," Hermione said casually, munching on some toast. "They didn't really have a purpose anymore."

"Oh." Ron slumped a little. "I s'pose." Neville didn't look too happy either.

Hermione laughed and upturned a small pouch over the table. Four black rings tumbled out. "I put some new spells on them to make them useful again." Ron and Neville eagerly grabbed their rings back and put them on, and Harry did the same, albeit in a more dignified manner. "If one of us is in trouble, just squeeze the ring between your thumb and forefinger and whisper 'I need help'."

"That's brilliant!" Ron looked awed. Neville tried it out, and their rings began to vibrate at the same time. Harry looked down and saw a little white word had appeared around the edge: _Neville_. He and Ron went to show each other at the same time, but only Harry's had the word on it.

"Why doesn't Harry's have Neville's name appear?" asked Ron, frowning.

"It does. The words can only be seen by the wearer." Hermione was looking so pleased with herself that Harry couldn't help but laugh. She really was brilliant.

Neville looked worried. "What if someone steals it? Would they be able to see who's in trouble?"

Hermione huffed, her cheeks pink. "There are ways to fix that, but I did want to get _some_ sleep last night, thank you very much."

"It's fine – it's great, really!" Neville said hurriedly.

"I'll work on them when we come back next year. For now, only use them in emergencies, not if you run out of toilet paper or something." The boys laughed.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore looked out over the Great Hall, feeling simultaneously satisfied and malnourished. The events of the previous night were still at the front of his mind. Professor Quirrell had not only been after the Stone as he and Snape suspected, but had harboured the most dangerous dark wizard in history within his very body. To say it was disturbing was to call the sun warm. Dumbledore had suspected Quirrell for some time, but he hadn't realised the depth of the man's corruption. Even if young Harry hadn't dealt with him, he would have been beyond recovery.<p>

Harry Potter.

Would the surprises ever end?

Hermione's little slip confirmed his suspicions – they were communicating through Legilimency. How else could she claim to have 'felt' Harry's pain when he touched Quirrell? But that was the least of it. Harry had seemed almost uninterested as Dumbledore explained the nature of the Mirror of Erised, and how the Stone could be retrieved. Did he see it for what it was; a trap for those who were too weak to actually chase their fortunes? Or had he already deduced it somehow? No, that couldn't be the case; Dumbledore had detection charms around the Mirror before it was moved into the seventh chamber. He would have known if any students stumbled across it.

Dumbledore personally examined Quirrell's body earlier this morning. There had been a nasty, long gash cleaved into the man's back, very different from the burns that had killed him. Harry had used the Cutting Charm for violent purposes before against the troll. It seemed he valued finding alternative uses for simple spells. Resourceful, but also telling. The boy had tried to kill Quirrell the moment he saw Voldemort's face. The boy was willing to kill.

It made him feel old, thinking about it. Harry had every right to want Voldemort dead, but it was still sad seeing a child who was prepared to do the deed. James and Lily would not have wanted this, but what could be done about it?

Harry was laughing with his friends about something down at the Gryffindor table. A lesser mind might consider the boy's ability to move on from traumatic events so quickly as near-sociopathic. Dumbledore believed no such thing. Harry's heart was good; there was no evidence suggesting otherwise. But even the best of men can be taken by righteous anger in times of great emotion, and the events down in the seventh chamber certainly fell under that category.

This enigma of a boy was going to be out from under Dumbledore's direct gaze until next year. It almost frustrated him, but time had taught him patience, even for the most interesting problems.

Besides, Harry was unlikely to do anything interesting while away from school. Without magic, he would be safe from his own machinations as much as anyone else's. Hopefully next year, he and Miss Granger would see fit to include him in their plans a little sooner, assuming it proved to be as eventful as this year.

* * *

><p>Gryffindor brought home the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup, since Harry was well enough to fly in the final match. For once, he'd been able to just relax and enjoy the game, and ended up catching the snitch in the first few minutes once the Chasers had had a bit of fun. Ravenclaw wasn't too upset by the loss since it at least kept the cup out of Slytherin hands, and the teams had a joint celebration after the game for a well-played match. After dealing with bad blood from the Slytherins all year, it was refreshing to be on good terms with a whole other house.<p>

More than a few students came to Harry and Hermione to ask if there would be any final self-defence classes, but neither of them felt like fighting again so soon. They assured those who asked that the classes would resume next year.

On their final day at Hogwarts, the former Watchers of the Stone were taking a long walk around the lake. Harry had a thick leather photo album tucked under his arm, a gift from Hagrid. Ron and Neville were displaying surprising tact and walking a little ahead of Harry and Hermione, sensing that the two wanted to talk. Harry held Hermione's hand, and for the first time he didn't hate himself for it. That was new.

"Why do you think Snape refereed that Quidditch match?" Harry asked quietly, looking out over the water. It wasn't as beautiful as it was at night in his opinion, but it was still a nice view.

"I don't know for certain," replied Hermione, fiddling with his fingers absently. "But I believe he or Dumbledore may have come to the conclusion that the troll incident was targeted at you. Snape could have refereed the match as a precaution."

They walked in silence for a time. Neville shoved Ron and started laughing about something. Ron shoved him back and soon they were both howling. Harry smiled as he watched them. Despite some of the setbacks they'd faced, their first year had turned out alright.

"Harry," Hermione began hesitantly. "Are you... willing to talk about, well, our ongoing prank?"

"Huh?" Harry turned away from the boys. "Prank?"

"The one we're both… playing along with."

"Oh." Harry felt the self-loathing surge within him, but was surprised when it didn't hit as hard as it normally did. "Yes, I guess."

"Do you want to continue it?" she asked in a small voice. He caught her eye and she looked away, the faintest blush on her cheeks.

"I get the feeling _you_ do," Harry said dryly. She looked down at her shoes, heat spreading to her neck.

"Don't think poorly of me, Harry. I've been with you for so long, I can't imagine being apart." He thought that was a little corny. "Corny, is it? I know for a fact you feel the same way," Hermione said haughtily.

"That's cheating," he spluttered. _No, I don't._

_Yes you do, _replied a sing-song voice in his mind. Hermione had an impish look about her.

Harry hardened his passive defences, but the damage was done. "Look, I don't know how things will turn out," he said finally. "But I… want to continue to play along. At least for now." Before she could say anything, he hurriedly continued. "And if I _think_ something different to what I say out loud, I want you to just ignore it until I choose to say it." He dropped his defences.

"Okay," she replied, smiling brightly.

"Okay," he muttered to himself. The memory of a little piece of paper with _Love, Hermione_ written on it suddenly came to mind.

Hermione hummed as she walked.

* * *

><p>Harry watched the countryside roll by as the Hogwarts Express chugged back to London.<p>

"You've all gotta come to the Burrow," Ron said, slapping Neville on the back and grinning at Harry and Hermione. "I'll send you an owl once I've asked Mum."

"Can you send it at the start of August? Harry and I are planning to spend the first month studying for next year," said Hermione.

"Already? Bloody hell, you two never stop, do you?" Ron barked a laugh. "Alright, it'll just be me and Neville till then."

"I'll have to ask my Gran," Neville said uneasily. "Maybe we can have your family over for dinner first, so she can get to know you? She can be pretty… strict."

"Good idea." Ron's grin faded a bit. "We're… we're not the most… I mean, we aren't rich or anything, if that matters."

Neville shook his head fiercely. "It doesn't," he said firmly.

The boys turned red as they noticed Harry and Hermione smiling at them. They coughed and scratched their heads before launching into a Quidditch conversation that they'd had a hundred times before.

There was no trouble from Malfoy on the train, surprisingly, though the four of them kept their wands handy just in case. Even when Hermione explained something about jurisdiction, they refused to put their wands in their trunks.

They went through the barrier at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters in pairs, and were met by the Weasley family on the other side. Ron introduced them all, and Mrs Weasley looked delighted to see her son had made so many close friends. Neville's grandmother strode over and Neville did the same for her. She was perfectly civil, with a straight back and severe face. Mrs Weasley was introduced in turn, and Harry and Hermione took advantage of the slightly awkward conversation by moving a few metres away.

"How are you going to deal with the Dursleys?" she asked quietly.

"I've been thinking about it. The status quo just isn't going to cut it this time." Harry bit his lip. "But I don't want to be on bad terms with them constantly, either. Don't get me wrong, I don't believe for one second that they will somehow become better people, but I'm going to try and make it far less painful to live with them. For my own sake, you know?"

"Good. I always hated knowing you were going back to them. Do you have a plan?"

Harry was aware of Hermione's parents slowly walking over. "They think I'm a waste of space – a freeloader. Maybe if I bring some money in, they won't be as quick to put bars on my window."

"Where would the money come from?" Hermione raised an eyebrow suspiciously. She already knew.

Harry's face burned. _It's not like a huge supermarket chain is going to miss a few hundred quid every now and then._

Hermione didn't reply, instead turning to greet her parents. She introduced Harry to them, and he did his best to look like an innocent, embarrassed eleven-year-old. It really wasn't hard.

Uncle Vernon walked over, looking disgusted that Harry had shown up. He gravitated closer to the Grangers than the Weasleys, as it was clear who was more comfortable in Muggle attire. "Let's go, boy," he grunted. "Already wasted enough time waiting for you."

Harry shifted his grip on Hedwig's cage and his trunk, then turned to say goodbye to the others.

"See you in August, mate." Ron clapped him on the back.

"Hopefully I'll see you there too, Harry," Neville said, looking a bit daunted at the prospect of convincing his grandmother.

"Sure thing," Harry grinned. He looked to Hermione just as she collided with him in a great hug that almost knocked him over.

"I'll see you soon," she whispered in his ear before planting a kiss on his lips. Harry was distinctly aware of the Grangers, the Weasleys, Uncle Vernon, and Neville's gran watching. Ron and Neville sniggered at his expression.

They parted and, with his face burning harder than ever, Harry stumbled after his uncle.

The drive home was about as enjoyable as lying in a puddle of mud, but the memories of his 'first' year, of the tight-knit group they'd created, kept him smiling even as the familiar sights of Privet Drive flashed past.

"I want none of that nonsense around here, boy," Vernon growled as he was forced to help Harry lift the trunk out of the car. "I'll be locking away all of this junk until you go back."

"But I'm required to study over the holidays. They work us really hard," said Harry, gently picking up Hedwig's cage.

Vernon snorted through his moustache. "Not my problem."

"But if I don't send any of my work in, they'll have to come and check up on me."

_That_ got Vernon's attention. He looked around at the neighbouring houses and hurriedly dragged the trunk inside the house and up to Harry's room. Harry followed as meekly as he could. Vernon dumped the trunk in the middle of the room and drew himself up like a hot air balloon. "You can study in here with the curtains drawn, and if you make one _peep_, you'll go without dinner for a week. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry put Hedwig's cage on the desk.

"Good." Vernon stomped out and slammed the door.

Harry immediately drew his wand and crouched on the floor next to his trunk. Hedwig hooted curiously. "I'm checking out the protective spells on the house," Harry explained quietly. "We need to establish any limitations before we can figure out how to get past them." He stayed there for a while, occasionally murmuring something under his breath. He wasn't using any actual spells until he knew for sure that there was no other charm on the house that would detect magic. It was more a matter of focus: sort of _seeing_ through the wand, looking at his surroundings.

Harry sighed in relief. The blood ward Dumbledore created was still in place, miraculously. Harry didn't know why it hadn't broken; perhaps because Harry had fully expected to return to the Dursleys at the end of the year, it was still considered 'home', even if he had mentally moved on long ago. So would it break when his body turned seventeen again? It clearly used different rules for judging age than the Trace. Harry shook his head to stop himself from delving too deeply into the problem. _Not important._ All that mattered was that Privet Drive was a safe area to work from.

He sighed and tossed his wand on the bed before pushing his trunk against the wall so it wouldn't get in the way. It was starting to sink in that he was going to be seeing a lot more of this house. _We need to clear Sirius's name soon. I don't want to come back here more than I have to. _Distracting fantasies of living with Sirius kept him occupied well into the evening.

Harry stayed in his room until dinner, when Aunt Petunia called him down angrily. He immediately received a series of insults for not helping prepare the food or set the table, which he beared in silence. Dudley started a game of kicking Harry under the table every time he tried to take a bite, while Vernon boasted loudly of a big drill sale he'd made this week. The kitchen windows were strategically left open in case the neighbours were listening.

After dinner, the Dursleys retired to the couch while Harry cleaned up. Once they were all in the living room, Harry closed the windows and drew the curtains. With a wave of his hand, the dishes floated over to the sink and started washing themselves, the cutlery worked together to scrape any remaining food scraps into the garbage, and the pots and pans waited patiently in line. Within two minutes, the table was clear, the dishes were washed, dried and put away, and the same went for the pots. Harry gave a little smile at how easy it was. Wandless magic was imprecise and required more focus to use, but simple cleaning charms were well within Harry's skill level.

When Petunia suspiciously poked her head into the kitchen to see why the cleaning noises had stopped, she found Harry carefully drying a glass before putting it away. He hung the dishtowel on the rack and walked past Petunia to join Vernon and Dudley on the couch. From Petunia's stunned silence, she could find no fault in his behaviour.

He watched T.V. silently, not really taking it on board. This apparently suited the Dursleys just fine, and they chatted as though he wasn't there. Harry had thought this would be one of the hardest parts – pretending to be weak and subservient – but it really wasn't so bad. It was sort of like a penance for the crimes he would have to commit before all of this would be over.

Once Vernon was on his second glass of wine, he began to talk about the 'freaks and oddities' he'd seen at King's Cross Station that day. "– wearing the most ridiculous clothes, completely out of their heads," he ranted. Petunia nodded in agreement and glared at Harry as though it was his fault. "All I wanted was to get out of there – probably contagious, you know – but _he_ was busy chatting like we were on his time and not mine." Vernon jerked his head in Harry's direction.

"I was saying goodbye to my friends," said Harry, but everyone ignored him.

"And then he started kissing some scruffy-looking girl right in public like we were in bloody Paris. Probably caught whatever she had – I was surprised we weren't rushed into quarantine straight away." Vernon wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"You kissed a girl?" Dudley said, flabbergasted. "_You?_"

"Her name is Hermione. She's my girlfriend," Harry replied.

Petunia sniffed. "You wouldn't want to kiss a girl like that, Dudders. Honestly, _kissing_ at age eleven! No doubt her family is in shambles, living in a shack somewhere."

"Her parents are dentists," said Harry, but again nobody listened.

"Dudley's busy working hard, not slacking off playing with messy little girls," Vernon said proudly, slapping his son on the back.

"Working hard? You have a job?" Harry asked Dudley.

Petunia rushed to answer for him. "He doesn't need one. He's far too young and he's focusing on his schoolwork like a _good_ boy." Dudley preened under his parents' praise.

"_You_ could stand to get a job," growled Vernon. "You've been living off my hard-earned money, and now you're making fun of Dudley for having his priorities right, you ungrateful little –"

"Alright," said Harry. It was as good an opening as any. "I'll start looking for a summer job tomorrow. Maybe something at night so I'm too tired to be a bother to you during the day." The Dursleys were a little taken aback.

"You do that," said Vernon, turning the volume up. After a few minutes, Harry quietly excused himself and went up to his room.

What was a believable night job for a kid? Harry couldn't think of a single one. He could tell them that he was working at a magic store, but that would likely make things worse rather than better. Housekeeping? He certainly had the experience. But who would hire a kid to clean their house at night? Perhaps he could make up a story about a man who worked the nightshift and wanted someone at his house in case burglars came. That could work, but what if the Dursleys wanted details?

It was interesting trying to think of creative ways to fool them, and Harry spent an hour or two just lying on his bed, running through different possibilities in his mind. However, in the end, he decided the most effective method would involve memory charms. It was quick, relatively simple, and could be adjusted to fit his lies. With luck, he wouldn't even need to forge memories for them at all. They'd never gone out of their way to learn about his habits before.

Harry listened to the thumps of everyone going to bed, and watched the light turn off in the hallway. He got up and turned his own light off before sitting on the edge of his bed. He was feeling too energetic to go to sleep yet. _I can do anything!_ There was nothing stopping him from Apparating to the Burrow or Diagon Alley or anywhere he felt like.

Really, he could even go see Hermione. She probably wouldn't want to do anything tonight (he could almost hear her voice lecturing him about getting a good night's sleep) and he didn't want to seem over-eager to start their assassination campaign. Hermione would probably think he was deranged for looking forward to it.

"I already think you're deranged," said a voice near the wardrobe. Harry was so startled that he fell off the bed with a _thud_. He snatched his wand up to silence the room. "I already did that." Hermione dispelled her Disillusionment Charm and beamed at him. He couldn't help but grin back.

"Not many people can sneak up on me, you know," he said, giving her a hug.

"I'm honoured to be one of the few who can," she assured him with a giggle.

"When did you get here?" Harry held her at arm's length. She was wearing midnight-blue clothes which seemed a bit fuzzy to his eyes.

"I Apparated over as soon as my parents were asleep. I thought _I_ would have to wake _you_ up." She noticed him squinting at her clothes. "Oh, I charmed some of my clothes to blend into the night a bit better. Just a precaution."

"Disillusionment Charms aren't enough?" He knew the answer as soon as he asked.

"I don't have to refresh this. Now, are you ready?"

"What are we doing first?" Harry pulled his jacket on and took Hermione's hand.

"Housekeeping," she said determinedly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Being stuck in school has cost them a lot of time, so the next few chapters are going to be quite busy.  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 7: Operation Malfoy

**ATTENTION: This was posted at the same time as Chapter 6. Might want to check if you missed it.**

**Chapter 7: Operation Malfoy**

Harry and Hermione appeared with a _pop_ in a dark corridor with a very high ceiling. As his eyes adjusted, Harry realised that the walls were actually bookshelves full of dusty files and old records that stretched all the way up to the roof. Even the floor had a thick layer of dust that was disturbed by their sudden presence. The air was still and unmoving, and smelled musty. Hermione lit her wand and revealed either end of the corridor. To their left was a dead end, and in the shadows to their right was an intersection leading to similar-looking aisles.

"Where are we?" Harry whispered, lighting his wand as well.

"The library, of course," replied Hermione. "We need a place to plan and store materials when we're not at Hogwarts."

"Isn't this a bit conspicuous? You're always in the library."

"There are a lot of libraries, and I have absolutely no connection to this one." She brushed hair out of her eyes. "This time, anyway."

"When did you come here?" Their voices echoed softly down the aisle. It was oddly warm down here.

"When we were hunting Horcruxes, we once passed by a town with a big, beautiful building near the outskirts. After the war, I went back to see it again and wound up talking to one of the librarians about its history. When I asked to see the stacks, she told me nobody had been down there in almost thirteen years." Hermione shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea to make it our base of operations."

"How do you know she wasn't exaggerating? Are there security guards who come down here?"

"I'll check the register in a moment to make sure. As for guards, I'm planning to seal off this whole aisle and put some Muggle-repelling wards on it. If, by some horrible twist of fortune, a hundred Muggles decide to come down to the stacks and look around, they won't even realise there's an aisle here. It will just be an alcove or stone wall or something."

Harry wandered over to the intersection and looked around. Identical aisles stretched into the darkness. "What's the point of this place if nobody comes here?" He turned around, but Hermione had vanished. A minute later, she reappeared with a thick ledger, which she immediately began flipping through. "Are you really going to go through thirteen years' worth of registers?" he asked, folding his arms.

"I shouldn't need to. If the librarian told me the truth, the most recent date in this book will be around nineteen seventy-seven." Harry waited patiently for her to find the right page. "Yes, she was correct – the stacks have gone quite some time without visitors." Hermione closed the ledger with a satisfying _thump_.

"Unless someone else like, say, a security guard, came down here without signing in," Harry replied before sneezing three times in succession. The dust was everywhere.

"Library guards aren't allowed in the stacks, Harry. They watch the floors that people actually use. And nobody is allowed to come down here without signing this."

"I asked before, what's the point of having a whole floor full of things that nobody looks at?"

"These are all just crumbling original records that have been copied and made available elsewhere in the library. Nobody would want to come down here."

"You did."

Hermione smiled and put her hand against one of the shelves. "I have more appreciation for the original records than most people." She strolled along the aisle, letting her fingers touch each book. Harry got the feeling she was having a moment. "I thought of a different library at first. There was a nice one, a bit smaller than this, in the town where my cousins live. I went there while visiting them at age nine, and I found the most secluded place in the building, down in the stacks. I had all the books I could want, and nobody could bother me. When I finally came up, my parents were worried sick." She smiled sadly. "But I remembered that Dumbledore pieced together Tom Riddle's early life from memories that nobody would think to attain, and how he figured out the most likely hiding places for Riddle's Horcruxes. Dumbledore's too smart to allow a shred of detail connecting us to our base of operations, just in case he – or anyone else for that matter – starts snooping around. And then this place popped into my head. Nobody will be able to find a connection or memory, because we haven't been anywhere near here in our entire lives, from their perspective. It's perfect."

Harry nodded in agreement. "The only other issue I can see is if a witch or wizard comes to the library and senses any spells or magical items we leave down here."

"I think the combined power of two prodigies should be enough to cast an anti-detection spell strong enough to fool anyone," she replied dryly.

He checked his watch. "We'd better get started then. It's already eleven o'clock."

"Right." Hermione shook herself and drew her wand. "I'll seal off the aisle and disguise it, you get some fresh air circulating. It would be embarrassing if we suffocated after all this effort."

They went to work, Hermione at the intersection and Harry walking up and down the aisle itself. The stale air was soon replaced by a cool, soft breeze, inspired by his late-night flights around Hogwarts. "Can you make it slightly warmer?" called Hermione. "This place should be comfortable to work in." Harry thought it was nice already, but bumped it up a couple of degrees anyway. "Thank you." Hermione turned back to her work. Already, a wall had appeared in front of her, blocking the intersection from sight and turning the aisle into a corridor with no exit.

Harry had another sneezing fit and decided that simply wouldn't do. He used a couple of basic cleaning charms to siphon the dust out of every nook and cranny before banishing it. "Lights?" he asked.

"Go ahead."

Harry decided against being too fancy and transfigured a few files into candles that floated in the air above, like in the Great Hall. The light was a bit pitiful though, so he upped the brightness of the flames until it was like standing in the Gryffindor common-room. Hermione started tapping her wand on the wall sealing them off from the rest of the stacks. Harry looked around, wondering what else needed to be done. Some desks and chairs would be necessary, maybe a blackboard or two… He began transfiguring more files into bits of furniture. The aisle was quite wide, so he had a decent amount of room to work with.

By one o'clock, there were two big desks for both conspirators, four blackboards (two on each side), four thick chests, a cabinet, and a large table down the end. As he was considering whether to cordon off an area for a lavatory, Hermione tapped him on the shoulder, looking rather tired. "If nature calls, we can just Apparate back home. Let's avoid making this place too homely," she said.

"There's nothing more comforting than a toilet," agreed Harry.

Hermione elbowed him. "We should leave it at this for now. Until you get hired for your 'night job', we'll both need to get some sleep at night."

"I was expecting to get a bit more work done tonight."

"Time spent preparing now means more time we'll have to work with later."

"Alright, alright." Caught by an impulse, Harry kissed her on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow." He Disapparated before she could react.

Back at Privet Drive, Harry stood motionless in the centre of his bedroom, listening for any sign that the Dursleys were awake. Only faint snoring greeted him. Harry stripped off and got into bed, leaving his wand on his bedside table. It may have been well after midnight, but he was wide awake thinking of all the possible things they could get done this summer. If only Ron wasn't going to send an owl in August, they would have a whole other month to work with.

No, his first visit to the Burrow needed to happen. Maybe they would be able to sneak out at night somehow. Surely, after everything they'd done, getting past Mrs Weasley wouldn't be too difficult. It would be weird seeing Ginny again…

He woke a little later than usual, which was still fairly early in the Dursley household. Uncle Vernon was the only one downstairs when Harry started cooking breakfast. "Eggs and bacon, and don't burn them this time," grumbled the man. "And fetch the paper too."

Harry bit his tongue to keep from mentioning that he hadn't burned anything in years. From Vernon's perspective, he might have. Harry couldn't remember such a trivial detail, so he didn't say anything at all. Petunia was at the table when Harry returned from the front yard with the paper. It seemed Dudley was sleeping in today, being on holidays himself.

"May I have the job section?" Harry asked politely when he finally sat down with his own breakfast. Vernon irritably shuffled the paper and shoved a few pages across the table. "Thank you."

Harry scanned the available jobs without really reading them. He could put a fake advertisement in there, but it was a little too complicated for wandless magic. His wand was stuffed down the back of his jeans as usual, making it extra tricky. Raising the big paper as a shield, Harry quickly drew his wand and tapped the page. One of the advertisements was replaced by a request for someone to house sit at night while the owner was working. Harry put his wand away just as Dudley came thumping down the stairs. Petunia rose to cook breakfast for him, no doubt worried that Harry would mess it up for her growing little boy.

Harry laid the paper on the table again. "There's a job here I'm going to apply for. It's just house sitting, so I don't think it will matter how old I am."

"Will you be quiet? I'm trying to read," growled Vernon.

Silently, Harry wondered why he even bothered trying to be clever. None of the other Dursleys even seemed to hear him.

After breakfast, when Vernon had left for work and Dudley was on the phone inviting some friends over, Harry slipped out the front door and took a walk around the block. _How should I go about this?_ Wasn't there somebody else here in Privet Drive watching over him? Mrs Figg! She kept an eye on him for Dumbledore, and looked after him when the Dursleys went on vacations. Would she notice his new 'job'? If worse came to worst, he could charm her memory as easily as anyone else who got suspicious, but he really wanted to avoid that. She might have to send regular reports, and there would be no telling how much she'd already told Dumbledore – and if her reports suddenly omitted the parts he erased from her mind, Dumbledore would be on Privet Drive like a bee on honey.

He walked to the park and looked around. Nobody had followed him. Mrs Figg didn't have magic to hide behind, so Harry very much doubted she was tasked with stalking him yet. His memory was a little fuzzy, but it was probably only _after_ Voldemort was revived that the Order reactivated and started trailing him.

Harry returned to Privet Drive and checked his watch as he walked through the door. He'd been out for half an hour. That was good enough.

Petunia was preparing snacks for Dudley, who was loudly talking about what he and his friends were going to be doing when they arrived. Harry sighed and waited for a chance to speak. It came when Dudley immediately started wolfing down the plate of little sandwiches meant for four boys.

"I got the job," Harry said loudly. Petunia looked at him sharply, and Dudley choked a little. "The man wants me to start tonight, if that's okay."

"The job? What job?" snapped Petunia.

Harry mentally ran through some meditation exercises. "The housekeeping job I found in the paper this morning. The owner works the night shift, so –"

"Is he paying you?"

"Er, yeah. Three pounds a night." Harry watched Dudley struggle to add some numbers together.

"Mum, is that more than my pocket money?" Dudley asked. _Way to give up._

Petunia wore a frozen smile. "I-It's time we raised your pocket money anyway, Dudders. You can have the same as Harry makes on top of what you get already, alright sweetie?"

Dudley gave Harry a smug grin. Harry let his anger drain away, like a creek trickling in a forest. "I'm starting tonight. I work from eight to five in the morning."

"Do you think we're going to drop everything to take you there and pick you up, especially at such ridiculous hours?" asked Petunia.

Harry sighed, trying to look like his hopes had been quashed. "I'll just walk," he said glumly.

"Of course you will." Petunia returned to her sandwich making. "The nerve!" she muttered.

Harry spent the rest of the day in his room with the door locked. Dudley and his friends got bored of pounding on the wall after a while and left to do something else. To keep himself busy, Harry silenced his room and practiced dancing just to stay limber. It just wasn't as fun without Hermione, so he pretended that she was doing the exact same thing in her own room. He made himself some food and water by transfiguring little crumpled balls of paper after Dudley tried to lure him out with promises of sweets (while sniggering and telling his friends to get ready).

It was a relief when the time came to begin his 'shift'. He'd helped prepare dinner once Dudley had started whining instead of trying to torment him, and had just finished cleaning up when he announced his departure. One of Dudley's friends was sleeping over, and they were loudly laughing at the T.V. in the other room.

"My job starts soon. I'd better get going," said Harry. Vernon grunted over his glass of wine and Petunia sniffed. Harry supposed he should feel shocked at how little they cared about a kid wandering the streets at night, but he couldn't summon the energy to get angry.

Harry collected his jacket and locked his bedroom door before leaving. Dudley would probably rip up all his books or something. _Flow like the forest creek._

Outside, Harry walked quickly to the park. Once there, he looked for a footpath leading between two houses and headed for it immediately. It was much easier to see that nobody was watching in the short alley, and he Disapparated, confident that nobody was watching.

The library aisle was the same as he'd left it, except the shelves near Hermione's desk had been replaced by a couple of useful books. She must have found time to get them during the day. Maybe her parents went out or something. He checked his watch: only twenty past eight. Hermione might not be here for another hour or two, depending on how lenient her parents were.

Harry decided to check out her work on the wall concealing their base of operations. He Apparated to the other side – the side that people would see if they came down to the stacks – and inspected the mysterious stone wall. Actually, why was it mysterious? It looked perfectly natural there, even though none of the other aisles had walls at their entrances. Harry shook his head before tapping the concrete with his wand. It took some delving, but eventually he found what he was looking for. He let out a low whistle. Hermione had put some pretty powerful perception-modifying spells on there. Muggle or wizard, it took a lot of concentration to look past it. If Harry hadn't been as powerful as Hermione, he doubted he could have seen it so easily.

He Apparated back inside the aisle and began adding his own layer of protective spells on the area. Combined, they might even be able to fool Dumbledore himself.

There was a faint rustle of clothes behind him. "You're early," he said with a smile, continuing his work.

"I could say the same for you," replied Hermione, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Was that just to see his reaction, or was it payback for leaving so suddenly last night? "It's because I'm happy to see you, actually."

"Nice work on the perception modifiers." He gave it a rest for now, lowering his wand.

"Thank you. My parents went out and I had some free time. Honestly, I can't think about anything else at the moment."

"Me too," Harry nodded fervently. "What are we doing tonight?"

"Well, our – actually, first thing's first, we need a name for this place. Something innocuous so we can talk about it in public." She bit her lip as she thought. Harry just watched her, suddenly unable to think about anything. "You're making this difficult," she said with a laugh, her cheeks going red.

Harry looked away. "What about… the Hollow?" he said.

"For Godric's Hollow?" He nodded. "I like it. The Hollow it is. As long as we don't leave anything here that refers to this place by name, we should be perfectly free to talk about it no matter where we are." She walked over to the large table at the natural dead end of the aisle. "I'm glad you made this. I've decided it's where we'll plan for our highest priority objectives."

"Lucius Malfoy and the diary," said Harry, joining her on the opposite side. A large piece of parchment appeared across the table. At the top, in thick black ink, was _OPERATION MALFOY._

Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe we should choose a less conspicuous name."

"Operation Bump-Off-The-Blonde-Git?" Harry suggested helpfully. She gave him a flat look.

"I suppose it doesn't matter. This place will be full of incriminating evidence soon enough. We just need to make sure none of it mentions us." Hermione leaned on the table, staring at the parchment as though she could already see plans forming. "How do you think we should approach this, Harry?"

As much as he wanted to kick in the door and charge for Lucius immediately, his gut told him that would be a very bad move. "We need to scout Malfoy manor before we do anything. A good map should –" A sudden idea came to mind. "The Marauder's Map! Let's make a version for Malfoy manor so we always know who's in there and where they are!"

"That's a brilliant idea!" said Hermione excitedly. "It will take time to map it out before we can cast the Homonculous Charm, but it should give us all the information we need to do this right."

Harry summoned another piece of parchment with nothing on it. "Is there a spell that will automatically fill out a map if we wait in an area long enough?"

Hermione closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in concentration, probably searching her memory palace. "There aren't many wizard cartographers, but yes, I think there is a spell that works along those lines. Give me a moment."

Harry wracked his own brains while he waited. While tracing the lines and trying to stop Voldemort's contingency plan, they'd made their own maps to keep track of where each knot was found. But they had used very general maps with little detail except for landmarks like towns, lines, and knots.

"I think I've got it," said Hermione, opening her eyes. "But it will take time. The spell wasn't designed for this purpose."

"Maybe we can rework it. It hasn't been that long since we were making our own spells."

"That will take time too." Hermione shrugged. "It's up to you, Harry."

He didn't need long to think it over. "If we make the cartography spell work for our needs, it will make our next targets even easier. Time spent preparing now means more time we have to work with later."

Hermione looked pleased that he'd taken her logic on board. "Very well. Let's spend tonight working on the spell, then."

So they did.

Harry received a quick refresher course on spell creation from Hermione. The methods came back to him relatively easily; it had only been a year since they last did something like this. But the cartography spell was poorly made. There were so many tiny inefficiencies that Harry was surprised that whoever created it had the gall to claim it was complete.

"It was designed to work at the pace of an explorer on the ground," Hermione explained. "They wanted a long-term, steadily-growing map spell to complement their expedition style. Besides, they might not have had the knowledge or power to make what we're looking for. For all we know, this spell could have been an absolute godsend at the time."

Harry conceded that point.

They were ready to test at about ten o'clock, so they Apparated to a little village near the coast and huddled behind a local chapel. They both had Disillusionment Charms and charmed clothing, just in case.

The piece of parchment in Harry's hands shook as he shivered a bit. The night air was far from enjoyable this time. Hermione tapped the page with her wand. Slowly, little lines of ink radiated out from the centre, drawing the chapel yard and neighbouring houses. Except, on closer inspecting, it was only drawing basements instead of everything, and houses with multiple floors were just big splotches of ink.

Back at the Hollow, Hermione reddened as she continued to work on the spell. "Yes… well… I may have made a little mistake when accounting for… well, it doesn't matter. First iterations are rarely successful, in any rate."

Harry wisely said nothing.

It was midnight when they finally had a working spell (along with several splotchy half-drawn maps of villages along the coastline). "I'm naming it the Cartographical Charm, since it deserves the title far more than its predecessor." Hermione's tolerance for the old explorer's mistakes had vanished long ago.

She grabbed Harry's wrist and looked at his watch. "Oh, shoot. I need to go to bed now or I'll be useless tomorrow."

"I can get started on my own," suggested Harry. Hermione gave him a piercing look and he held up his hands defensively. "I'm not going to do anything crazy. I'll just sit outside the boundaries of Malfoy manor and let the spell do its work."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'll come with you for half an hour. Once I'm sure you're not about to be ambushed, you can do the rest of the night."

"I can grab the invisibility cloak, if you want."

"No, it's connected to you. No trace, remember?"

"No trace. Shall we?"

Still looking unsure, Hermione took his hand. They reapplied their Disillusionment Charms and Apparated away.

They appeared on short grass beside a straight road. Ahead, a wrought-iron gate gleamed dully in the moonlight. Harry and Hermione lowered themselves to their bellies and waited. Behind the gate, a great manor house was silhouetted against the inky black sky. The sharp, angled roof definitely suited the name Malfoy.

_Do think there was a silent alarm?_ Harry thought.

_I don't know. We're quite far back from the gate, but I don't know how big their protective charms are,_ she replied.

After five minutes of inaction, Harry eased his wand out. A spike of warning appeared in his mind. _Relax,_ he thought calmingly. The spike didn't go anywhere. He began seeing through his wand ever-so-subtly, the same way he checked the Dursley's house. There was nothing in their immediate vicinity, even underground and in the air.

Harry expanded his search, pushing his detection towards the gate. As soon as it reached the gate and boundary wall, a whole host of protective charms revealed themselves, some of them quite nasty. _Are you seeing this?_

_Yes… this will take some doing. It looks as though some of the spells have been here as long as the house_, Hermione replied.

_On the plus side, it looks like they're all focused on the physical boundaries of the estate._ Harry pushed a little deeper, being careful to remain as subtle as possible. The wall of spells suddenly stopped on the other side of the gate. Even when Harry pushed as far as he could reach, he couldn't detect any protective enchantments beyond those at the boundary.

_Looks like we'll only need to break through that first layer when the time comes,_ he thought.

_Unless there's a secondary layer on the manor house itself,_ Hermione responded cautiously.

_True. If we can get in without triggering any alarms, we could scout it out and make sure._

He didn't need to turn his head to know Hermione was shaking hers. _Getting through the boundary spells might attract attention, and without a house-elf on our side, I don't see another way. When we do this, it will need to be all at once._ Harry heard the faint rustle of parchment and slowly looked round. Hermione had the blank map paper ready and took a deep breath before tapping it. Ink immediately began to trace the building. There were many rooms on several floors, but it covered them accurately and legibly. The Cartographical Charm was a masterpiece.

_No cellar,_ he thought as he studied the blank space beneath the drawing room.

_It must be unplottable._

Harry thought for a few seconds. _If we found a house-elf and used the Imperius Curse to make them take us beyond the boundary, we could have a look at any other protections in place._

_We are NOT making an innocent house-elf an accessory to murder, Harry!_

Harry very much regretted thinking anything, but he felt the need to argue his point anyway. _How is it any worse than what we're planning?_

_We're targeting Death Eaters; people who _chose_ to be evil. House-elves are victims as much as anyone._

_Then isn't it in their best interests to use their talents to take out Death Eaters?_

Hermione was silent for a few seconds. _Not against their will._

Harry decided to drop it and instead took the map. _You should probably go to bed, it's almost half-past._

He could feel her hesitation before she kissed him on the cheek. _Use the ring if something happens._ She vanished without a sound.

Harry lay on the grass, watching the map and manor in equal increments. There wasn't a single light at any of the windows, and not even the crickets were chirping. Would Dobby help them if he knew of their quest? This Dobby would be inherited by Narcissa or Draco Malfoy once Lucius was dead. Freeing him could give them a very useful ally. But how would they go about it? He shook his head slightly. It was pointless to speculate on this now. Dobby could be saved later.

The map finished drawing the last few nooks and crannies of the building and expanded out to the grounds. As soon as the boundary wall was complete, Harry stopped the spell. He had what they needed.

Just before he was about to Disapparate, he heard footsteps crunching on the road. He remained as motionless as possible as they drew closer. Voices accompanied them, two by the sounds of it.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so quick to antagonise him, then." The speaker couldn't be older than twelve, but they sounded fairly smart.

The other person snorted in a familiar way. "And just let him have free reign of the school? Father says we have to fight these people at every turn, or they'll have us all turned into blood-traitors," said Draco Malfoy.

As they got closer, Harry recognised Theodore Nott as the other boy. What were they doing out this late?

"Does your father also tell you to humiliate yourself repeatedly?" Nott laughed. Harry expected a quick admonishment, but Malfoy remained silent. Nott wasn't someone he could bully, then.

"Things will be different this year. Father has a plan," Malfoy said at last. They walked through the gate as though it wasn't there.

Harry waited until they were out of sight before Apparating back to the Hollow.

He dispelled his Disillusionment Charm and slammed the map on the table. Seeing Draco had gotten his blood pumping. He was sure that at any moment, the boys could have turned and seen him. Ridiculous, yet possible.

The map looked perfect. Even the rooms were labelled, which was unexpected. But then, they really went all-out when redesigning the spell. Harry's heart gave a little jolt when he noticed _Dobby's cupboard_ on the ground floor. Somehow, they'd find a way to get him out of there.

Harry checked his watch. It was almost four in the morning. His tiredness crashed into him as though it had been waiting for him to realise. He groaned and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. _I'm going to need to shift my sleep schedule._

Harry Apparated to the alley in Little Whinging once more. The streets were as dark and cold as ever. He stuffed his wand away and started walking. It was doubtful the Dursleys were going to question him, but he prepared a lie about the man coming home early and sending him on his way. Mr Bradsworth, that would be his name.

_Who am I kidding? I'll just use a Memory Charm if they get too curious._

Back at Privet Drive, he stumbled up to the front door before realising he didn't have a key. Too tired to care, he pretended to pull something out of his pocket before using an Unlocking Charm wandlessly. He moved as quietly as possible, locking the door again behind him and treading carefully up the stairs.

Thankfully, snoring echoed through the house, covering his movements. On the second floor, Harry noticed light coming from under the bathroom door. He made for his room as fast as he could, but the door opened before he could slip inside. Harry found himself staring at Dudley's friend, who was looking blearily back.

Harry ducked inside his room and locked the door. Hedwig hooted irritable from her cage. "Sorry girl," he whispered, opening the window and the cage. "Here, go have some fun. I'm planning to sleep in pretty late, so take as long as you want." Hedwig nipped his fingers affectionately and, with a rush of feathers, took off into the night.

A night that was looking progressively lighter. Harry groaned again. It was morning.

He awoke at midday when Dudley started pounding on his door. Harry sat up groggily. Hedwig wasn't back yet, though maybe that was because the blinds were closed to block out the sunlight. He swung his legs over the side of his bed as Dudley started knocking again.

"What?" called Harry.

"You don't get to lie around all day!" Dudley shouted through the door, laughing. "Mum wants you to do the garden!"

"Tell her I was working all night!" Harry replied angrily.

"Sitting in a house isn't real work, Dad said! You've gotta do the garden!" Dudley was clearly enjoying this.

Harry got dressed and went downstairs, dodging Dudley's attempt to trip him. Petunia was at the back door, looking furious. "Out there, now!" she said, tossing a pair of hedge clippers at him. Her eyes widened as they crossed the room, perhaps realising she had just thrown a heavy pair of sharp scissors at a little eleven-year-old.

The clippers froze in the air before they could hit Harry's face, then fell into his waiting hands. Harry said nothing as he marched outside. Hopefully Petunia would realise that the less said of this incident the better.

Despite being sleepy and hungry, Harry went to work in the back garden, tidying everything up. In the afternoon, he went in to have a late lunch while Petunia was at the shops with Dudley. All he could think about was the map waiting for him at the Hollow. With the amount of progress they were making, they might be able to squeeze several other objectives into their month of freedom.

Wandless magic was becoming more and more useful while at the Dursley's. If he encountered a weed in the garden that was too difficult to pull out, he could just perform a levitation charm and let his magic do the work for him. Every so often, he practiced something a little more complex. They only worked half of the time, but then, they were very advanced. Harry made a note to ask Hermione if it was possible to use a Stunning Spell without a wand. He had the feeling it was, but it would likely require years of practice and study to be used effectively. Quirrell had been particularly talented at wandless magic; he probably would have known where the limits were.

Harry finished at four o'clock, well aware that his next 'shift' would start in four hours, so he snuck up to his room for a nap. He'd barely closed his eyes when Petunia called him down again to vacuum the living room. This time, Harry just gave her a flat look and got to work. She didn't tell him off for it, so she was likely still thinking about the clippers earlier. It wasn't out of goodwill or anything, she probably just didn't want to accidentally make him do magic again. It was a miracle that Dudley hadn't noticed.

By the time Harry finished, Vernon had arrived home and started demanding dinner. Harry didn't know how he had ever thought being back here wasn't that bad. The Dursleys were awful the first time round, and they were following in their own footsteps quite well.

Dinner was at seven-thirty, and Harry cleared up by quarter-to. "I'm off to work," he said, donning his jacket.

Vernon snorted. "Hardly real work, is it? You just sit in some man's house while he's out."

"It's still more than Dudley's ever done," Harry replied tiredly before darting out the front door before he could get punished.

He went to the same alley as before and Apparated to the Hollow. Hermione was already there this time, studying the map of Malfoy manor.

"Drew it myself," Harry said cheerfully, hugging her from behind. "Do you like it?"

"A true masterpiece," Hermione said with a smile. "It's ready for the Homonculous Charm, but once that begins it will need a few days to populate the map. I'm surprised your father was able to perform it at such a young age."

Harry grinned. "He was brilliant with Charms."

"It runs in the family. Now," Hermione drew her wand, "I have an idea for improving the Strike Map."

"Strike Map?"

She blushed. "Well, that's what we're using it for, isn't it? I thought it was fitting."

"It's good," Harry assured her, drawing attention back to the map. "So what's your idea?"

"Well, rather than make a different map for every place we want to infiltrate, let's make this map reveal a different location based on what you say when you tap it with your wand. Such as 'I wish to strike at Malfoy manor', and then this map would appear. Or 'I wish to strike at Nott manor', and a map of that place would appear."

"The Nott family has a manor?"

"Well, they're an old pureblood family, so it stands to reason. Not to mention, in your memories of last night, you noted that Draco couldn't bully Theodore. That must mean that they are on equal footing."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Will it be difficult to make this Strike Map? I feel like we're making good progress, but every time we get close to taking action, there's something new."

"It shouldn't be too difficult. I've already had a bit of practice with notes that only reveal their contents to a specific person," Hermione smiled.

"How soon can you do it?"

"I won't be able to do it while the Homonculous Charm is building. It's up to you. Before, or after?"

"After. I want to make sure this works before adding any bells and whistles."

Hermione immediately began tracing a pattern on top of the map with her wand. After a few seconds, she muttered something under her breath and took her wand away. "That should get it started."

"How many days will it take?"

"Well, the manor is quite large, so probably four or five, depending on how many people go through it every day. If it's mainly the Malfoy family with the occasional guest, it may even be as short as three days."

Harry scratched his chin. "Hogwarts must have taken months," he said.

"Yes, it most likely did. They wouldn't have been able to hide the map while the charm was working, either, so it must have been difficult to keep it from being discovered." Harry wished he could have heard that story from his father. Hermione linked her arm through his. "You can still hear it from Sirius and Lupin, remember," she said quietly.

That picked him up a little. "I wonder where Lupin is at the moment."

"Probably living in poverty," Hermione said sadly. She sounded like she regretted bringing him up.

Harry was quiet for a time. "Sirius and Lupin have had a rough time of it. I think they should be our next priority."

"Okay."

"I didn't expect you to agree so easily," said Harry. Hermione was looking the other way. He gently took her chin and turned her head, seeing the wetness on her cheeks.

"I can't stand seeing your mind when you think about them," she sniffed. "You don't have to carry everyone else's sadness as well as your own, Harry."

"I wasn't trying – I don't."

Hermione unlinked her arm from his and scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She took a deep, composing breath. "While the map works, I have something to show you."

From within her pocket, she drew out a little pouch of marbles. Harry curiously watched her take a single marble and drop it on the floor. She flicked her wand and the marble twisted and grew into a rooster. It pecked at his shoelaces.

Harry wasn't sure what to say. "It's very nice," he ventured.

Hermione shook her head with a chuckle. "It's for the basilisk. I'm going to take these marbles to school and turn them into specially-triggered traps, just in case. If the time comes, we can go down to the Chamber and throw them everywhere with our eyes closed. If the basilisk hears the crowing of a single rooster, no matter how faint it is, it will die immediately."

"But I thought we were going to take the diary from the Malfoys and prevent the whole thing?"

"That's the plan. But things rarely work out the way we expect. It's better to be prepared for any eventuality, don't you agree?"

Harry pushed the rooster away with his shoe. "Good thinking." Hermione turned it back into a marble and dropped it back in her pouch.

"Anyway, since we have the next few nights free, I was thinking we could make a start on the knots. It would be good to get a couple done every now and then just so they won't be so insurmountable later," said Hermione.

"Right. And the sooner we clear away the knots, the sooner we can put Tom back in the ground."

"I've –" Hermione stopped talking, and Harry knew why. They both looked at their rings, which had suddenly begun to vibrate. A word appeared in little white letters on the outside. _Ron._

"What?" said Harry. "There's nothing – the Burrow can't be under threat!"

"We need to get there _now_; I told him only to use it in emergencies."

Harry took her arm but she pulled away. "No, we can't Apparate there. They'll know we performed under-age magic. Nobody can know that the Trace doesn't apply to us."

"Hermione, he could be in danger!"

"I know!" She jammed her eyes shut for a few seconds. "The Floo Network! You don't have to be of age to use it – we need a fireplace on the network and some Floo powder."

"Let's use the Leaky Cauldron and say that we found a magical neighbour who let us use their fireplace."

"But then how do we get home?" Hermione started pacing. "No, you had come to visit me, and we were having dinner at the Leaky Cauldron with my parents when our rings went off. We slipped away and used the fireplace when nobody was looking."

"Too many lies. It will collapse under scrutiny," said Harry. "We… we… Mrs Figg, she's a squib who watches over me for Dumbledore. I bet her fireplace is on the network. I snuck into her house and used it, and that's where I'll go back to."

"But you don't know for certain that it's on the network, Harry. You might stand in Ron's fireplace and say Mrs Figg's house, and nothing will happen." She stopped pacing. "Oh, we're wasting time!"

"I'll get my invisibility cloak, we'll go check it out, and if everything's okay, we'll write to him and pretend that we had no way of getting to him." Harry took her arm and Apparated back to his room. Hermione didn't stop him from throwing the cloak over both of them and taking her hand again.

They appeared at the end of the path leading to the Burrow, and took off at a crouched run.

There were raised voices inside as they neared the front door, and Harry readied his wand. They reached a window that was open slightly. It looked in on the kitchen table, where the Weasley family was sitting, looking completely unharmed.

"Of course they aren't here!" Ron shouted. Fred and George were laughing at him. "Harry's with his aunt and uncle, do you think he's gonna fly here? And he and Hermione don't even know where I live, so now they're just gonna be worried!"

"Settle, boys," said Mrs Weasley.

"Ron," Mr Weasley began patiently, "I very much doubt that two first years could perform a Protean Charm of that complexity. I'm certain that young Harry and Hermione are very talented, but that's pushing the boundaries a bit."

"He's a genius," said a quiet voice. Harry only just noticed little Ginny sitting beside Percy. "He beat You-Know-Who twice." Her face flushed crimson at the look her mother gave her. "Well he did! Ron said Harry punched You-Know-Who in the face!"

"Really, dear," Mrs Weasley turned her flat look on Ron, whose ears were bright red from a combination of indignation and embarrassment. "We're very pleased that you've made such good friends, but this is a little too much. And don't you go telling Ginny stories about You-Know-Who! She's nervous enough about her first year as it is."

"I am not!" protested Ginny as the twins started making noises as though they were comforting a baby.

A big _whooshing_ sound came from the other room, and the family went quiet. Harry held his wand ready to cast. Seeing Ginny had addled his brains a bit, but now he was in control again.

Neville Longbottom stumbled into the kitchen dressed in his nightgown, his wand drawn and face white. Upon seeing the entire Weasley family staring at him, his colour abruptly returned.

"Neville!" Ron stood up so fast he bumped the table. "Sorry, mate – it was these two gits – they goaded me into it – I wanted to show them how it lights up, but then I remembered only the owner can see it – it was a mistake."

Neville sheepishly put his wand away. "Er…" He didn't seem capable of speech anymore.

"Hello, Neville dear," said Mrs Weasley, looking quite bewildered. "Um, can we help you with something?" Even the twins were silent, their jaws open.

"I just – I came because…" Neville's eyes darted around at all of the people watching him and he swallowed audibly.

"I called him here, Mum," said Ron. "With the ring. I told you it worked," he added with a glance at the twins.

Neville nodded and raised his hand, showing his own ring.

"Well," said Mr Weasley, eyebrows raised and leaning back in his chair. "It seems we didn't give your friends enough credit, Ron."

"Does your gran know you're here?" asked Ron, looking guiltier by the second.

"No, she's in bed. I had to sneak downstairs to use the fireplace." Neville scratched the back of his neck. "What about Harry and Hermione?"

Ron sat down suddenly, as though his knees were weak. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "They're probably gonna be here any second. I don't know how, but not much could stop those two."

"Don't swear," Mrs Weasley said automatically.

"Why did you two have to make me do it?" Ron rounded on the twins. "I might get them in trouble because of you!"

"You're the one who wanted to prove it worked, little brother," said George.

"And if what you said about Little Miss Granger was right, only you could have done it," Fred continued.

_Harry,_ said Hermione in his mind as the boys argued and Neville shifted his weight uncomfortably, _Go to Mrs Figg's house, break in quietly, and try to use the fireplace. If it doesn't work, go to the Hollow and wait for me there._

_What? Why?_

_We have to show up now; a letter isn't going to cut it. Ron has too much faith in us, and we should reward it._

Damn it, she had a point. _What will you do?_

_I'll use the Leaky Cauldron and say I snuck away from my parents. I'll need to get back to them quickly, so Mrs Weasley won't have time to question me._

They snuck away from the window and back up the path. This time, they Apparated separately.

Harry appeared at Privet Drive, still under the cloak. He immediately started running and didn't stop until he reached Mrs Figg's house. The door unlocked itself as he turned the handle, and he snuck into the living room as carefully as he could. There were some vague memories associated with this place, but he had no time to think about them. The lights were all off, so Mrs Figg was likely upstairs in bed.

After silencing the room, he went over to the unlit fireplace and spied a little pouch on the cabinet nearby. His heart soared as he opened it and saw the familiar green tint of Floo powder. Harry lit the fire, threw a handful of powder in, and stepped in. "The Burrow," he whispered.

The sudden acceleration made him dizzy, but instincts kept his arms tucked in and back straight. Other fireplaces and grates flashed past, and he caught occasional glimpses of other people in their living rooms.

Harry burst out of the Weasley's fireplace and skidded on the carpet a little. He made sure to adopt a look of fierce determination as he kept his wand ready. Ron's faith would not be misplaced this night.

There was no sound from the kitchen, so he assumed they had all frozen at the noise of the fireplace. _This is ridiculous._ He took a breath and charged around the corner, almost colliding with Neville. There were several gasps and a loud squeak. Ginny, eyes wide, had lowered herself so far in her chair that only her pink face was visible. Mr and Mrs Weasley looked at loss for words, while the twins were grinning, enjoying the show.

"I take it," said Harry, "That you're not in trouble, Ron?"

Ron's face was beet red. "I'm really sorry, Harry. These two pushed me into it." He shoved Fred's shoulder.

"Did not!" said the twins.

Harry laughed, deciding that nothing would be gained by pretending to chew Ron out. "Hermione's going to have a fit."

"Don't remind me." Ron put his head in his hands.

Harry grinned at Neville, who looked very relieved to no longer be the only intruder.

"How did you get here?" asked Percy suspiciously.

"Floo powder. You know, green flames, fireplaces, that sort of thing." The twins sniggered and Percy's expression darkened, but the adults spoke up before he could retaliate.

"Er, welcome, dear!" said Mrs Weasley, looking a little harrowed. "I'm sorry, but we weren't expecting you."

"I'm the one who should apologise, Mrs Weasley. I shouldn't have just barged in like this. It's just, my ring went off, and I decided I'd rather be a rude guest than a bad friend." He shrugged apologetically.

"It was my fault," Ron perked up.

"Yes, it certainly seems that way," his mother replied. Her smile for Harry was much warmer though. "I don't blame you, Harry, nor you, Neville. You are both quite welcome here. And of course you were both worried about Ron, so that's alright."

"I must say, Harry, I'm impressed by these rings," Mr Weasley said suddenly. "That's very advanced magic, isn't it?"

"I, er, suppose so." Harry shifted his feet. "Hermione did most of the work."

As if on cue, another great _whoosh_ came from behind him. There was a patter of footsteps before Hermione, now in her pyjamas and holding her gown closed with her left hand and brandishing her wand in her right.

Her eyes widened at the scene before her, and she nudged Harry uncertainly. "Harry?" she whispered.

"False alarm," Harry chuckled.

Hermione stuffed her wand away and drew herself up. "I said the rings were for _emergencies,_ Ron! Did you run out of gravy or something?"

The twins roared with laughter while Ron seemed as though he wanted to dissolve into a puddle.

"It was a mistake," said Neville defensively. "They probably tricked him into doing it."

Hermione had already turned away towards the parents. "I'm terribly sorry for bursting in like this," she said, wringing her hands. She was a fantastic actor.

"It's quite alright," Mrs Weasley had a few stray hairs now.

"I should really get back before my parents notice I'm gone." Hermione turned on her heel and darted back into the living room. Another _whoosh_ told of her departure.

Harry decided she had the right idea. The longer he stayed, the more time they'd have to question how he got there. "I should probably do the same," he said. "Sorry again for interrupting your dinner."

"Of course… not a problem, dear." It seemed neither of the adults could think of anything to say. The weirdness of the situation must have gotten to them. Well, all the better.

Harry threw the invisibility cloak over himself and walked back to the living room. Before he could throw some Floo powder, Ron came after him. "Harry?"

Harry lowered his hood, revealing his head. "Yeah?"

Ron shuffled his feet. "Look, I'm really sorry about this. I shouldn't have let them get to me. It was stupid and irresponsible."

A little surprised, Harry just nodded. "I'd rather have a false alarm than a real emergency, mate," he said. "Don't worry about it."

Ron looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "So… should I still send an owl in August?"

"Yeah, of course!" Harry laughed. "You don't want me to spend all summer with the Dursleys, do you?"

"Right." Ron grinned, and Harry saw how much his mistake had been bothering him.

Taking a handful of Floo powder, Harry tossed it into the flames. "Tell your parents I'll pay them back for the powder," he said, stepping into the flames. "Arabella Figg's house."

The familiar rush didn't catch him off-guard this time, and he watched the other fireplaces zip past with mild interest, like looking out of a car window.

Mrs Figg's house was silent, but he stood motionless on the carpet in front of the fireplace, listening intently for any sign that she had woken up. He extinguished the fire immediately (along with the silencing charm) and padded across the carpet into the entry hallway. The door was still unlocked, so he slipped out and locked it behind him.

Since he was already invisible, he didn't bother going to the alley again, and just Apparated to the Hollow straight away.

Hermione was there, still in her nightgown. "Did I leave too abruptly?" she said the moment he appeared.

"I don't know, how abrupt is too abruptly?"

"Never mind." She took a calming breath and released it, dropping into the chair in front of her desk. "I wish none of that had happened."

"Hey, me too. There's no telling what kind of repercussions this is going to have." Harry sat on the desk.

"I think I covered my tracks fairly well. Nobody noticed me at the Leaky Cauldron, even when I used the fireplace." Hermione looked at him closely. "And I see that you took reasonable precautions as well. But we can't focus on what we did right. We need to look for mistakes. What did we reveal to Dumbledore tonight? We have to assume that anything the Weasley's – or anyone else – witnessed, he will know about."

"We know how to use the Floo system. We know locations near our homes that have fireplaces connected to the network." Harry thought a bit. "The rings, he'll know about those now."

"Right, yes. And since we entered with our wands out, he'll know we're more than willing to use magic outside of school if a dangerous situation presents itself."

"He probably already assumed that. Should we clear our wands?"

"Better to be safe than sorry." They both cast some basic spells that any first-year would know. If questioned, they could say that the spells were from their last few days at Hogwarts. Hermione stood up and yawned. "I'm going to go home early tonight. I don't quite feel like knot hunting anymore."

"What should I do? I'm here until five in the morning!"

She shrugged. "Read?" His flat look made her chuckle. "Just transfigure a bed and set an alarm for four-thirty. We really shouldn't do anything else tonight."

Harry sighed, defeated. "Sleep tight, I suppose." She pecked his cheek and vanished.

As it turned out, Hermione didn't want to do much in the following nights either. At the end of the week, they had done nothing but wait for the map to finish. Harry ended up getting much more sleep than he expected, though he still had to wake up early to get back to the Dursley's on time. Hermione said that the reason for not going knot hunting or doing something else of use was that she was worried that they were being watched a little more closely than usual after the ring incident. Harry didn't think he was being followed yet, unless it was by Dumbledore himself, but he supposed he understood the need for being extra careful.

The Strike Map was finished when Harry arrived at the Hollow on Monday of the following week. Hermione was looking over it carefully.

"How is it?" he asked, approaching the table.

"The Homonculous Charm seems to have worked perfectly. Aside from the blank spot where the cellar is hidden, we can see anyone in Malfoy manor at any time."

Harry leaned closer to the map. There was only one moving dot, _Dobby_, and it slowly moved around the kitchen, probably cleaning up. On the second floor, two doors down from the master bedroom, a little dot named _Draco Malfoy_ sat motionless at the side of the room, probably in bed. In the master bedroom, _Lucius Malfoy_ was right next to _Narcissa Malfoy_, also likely asleep. Surprisingly, in the guest bedroom, there were two more dots, separate as though in different beds: _Nathanael Nott_ and _Theodore Nott_.

"The Notts are staying with the Malfoys? Why?" he asked.

"For all we know, they get together and bait Muggles for fun the same way other people have dinner parties. Nott manor could be getting renovated or something, as well. Honestly, the _why_ of it isn't as important for once."

Harry agreed. "Two targets at once, that's useful. Very useful."

"Exactly. But we don't know how long they'll be in the same place. This could be their last night together."

"This is it, then. We've got the map, we've checked the outer defences." He furrowed his brow, looking at the two dots that would soon disappear. "I don't know how much more preparation we can do before we just have to get in there and take them out."

"My thoughts precisely." Hermione sounded resigned.

Harry looked up. "I can do it alone if you –" His ears were suddenly ringing, and it took a moment to realise Hermione had slapped him. She was glaring at him with all the intensity of a basilisk. Of course, she still looked rather cute, but saying so would be suicidal – another slap sent him stumbling back. "Calm down," he said hoarsely.

"I didn't do all of this planning with you just to be stopped by a sudden bout of conscience, Harry Potter. These men deserve what we're going to give them."

There was silence in the Hollow for a few moments.

"I was just –" began Harry, rubbing his cheek.

"I know. And normally, I like how protective you are of me. But there's no place for coddling where we're going, and you need to realise that I'm in as deep as you are." Hermione folded her arms.

Harry sucked in a deep breath. "Alright. But _you_ need to realise that while I do know how capable you are, that knowledge will never stop me from trying to keep you out of danger."

Hermione's glare melted into a weary smile. "I had a feeling you'd say that." She stepped closer and put a hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry I slapped you."

"Don't worry about it." He touched her hand. "There's no time like the present."

They drew their wands, charming their clothing to blend into the night and adding a Disillusionment Charm on top for good measure. Hermione also transfigured some scraps of paper into two balaclavas. "If everything goes well, these won't end up being necessary," she said, charming them like the rest of their clothes.

Harry pulled the balaclava on immediately, and Hermione did the same. "Now, once we're inside the manor, I think one of us should start working on the cellar straight away, while the other goes upstairs and takes out Lucius and Nathanael," he said.

Hermione nodded. "I'll do the cellar. It might have some difficult protective spells that could take up valuable time. Once I have the diary, I'll come up and join you."

"Good. Should I kill Narcissa as well?"

"No. She supported the Death Eaters, but she was never one of them. Plus somebody will need to look after Draco."

Harry didn't question her logic, instead taking her hand. "Here we go."

They appeared in front of the wrought-iron gates. Harry had the Strike Map out and watched carefully for any movement, while Hermione snuck close enough to start tampering with the defences.

"How is it?" he asked.

"Some of these spells are very old, but not as powerful as expected. I don't think many people have been foolish enough to try and attack this place, so they've never needed to invest in better protection." Hermione began drawing her wand through the air. "I've disabled the Knocker Charm that would have alerted the Malfoys that somebody's at the gate, but the rest will take a little time. Just keep an eye on the map."

Harry didn't need to be told that. He alternated between the map and looking down the straight road leading away from the mansion. There was no chance of Draco and Theodore being out for another stroll, but there was no telling who else might come by.

Minutes ticked by, but Harry schooled himself to patience through some meditation exercises. If he could stay in control, Occlumency wouldn't be needed. He watched the dot named _Dobby_ finally stop moving inside his cupboard. Hopefully the poor elf would sleep through the whole thing.

"I've got it," said Hermione. "We're lucky they don't have that spell that stops anyone who doesn't have a Dark Mark from entering. Otherwise, this could have taken a lot longer." She motioned him forward and together they moved through the gate as though it was made of smoke.

The driveway was long and bordered by beautiful gardens. Harry and Hermione ran silently up to the house, delving as they did so. At the front door, Hermione slowed to a halt, holding her wand before her. Harry kept an eye on the map while he waited. It didn't take long.

_The manor has no protective spells. They're all on the boundaries, not the house itself, _came Hermione's thought.

_I suppose if nobody ever attacks, it gives you a false sense of security. Or maybe they feel like they are too dangerous for any thief to dare try his luck._

Hermione prodded the big double doors, and they silently opened inwards. They crept inside slowly, like hunting in a forest. The entrance chamber was beautifully decorated with antique rugs and large paintings. There were several crystal torches on the walls, which were constructed of polished stone that gleamed in the faint moonlight.

Harry moved towards the stairs. _Good luck._

_You too._ Hermione vanished from sight as he entered the second floor hallway. Harry kept his wand out and his footsteps soft, stopping every few seconds to check the map. There were now two extra dots on there, but the rest hadn't moved. Hermione was almost at the entrance to the cellar, and Harry was a room away from the Nott family.

He silenced the door before unlocking it, then opened it quickly. There were two large beds on opposite sides of the room. Neither of the lumps under the covers stirred at his entrance. Harry checked the map once more before edging to the largest lump.

Nathanael Nott slept peacefully, with only his soft breathing to show that he was alive. Harry cast a silent ward around the man, and with one final look across the room at Theodore, he jabbed his wand at the man's throat. _Diffindo!_

There was no great spray of blood, just a gurgling hole in Nathanael's neck. Harry watched the sheets soak up the blood. The man's eyes shot open, but they were incapable of anything but surprise. A long rasp came from his throat, and then everything went quiet again. Harry performed a quick medical spell to make sure, then dispelled his silent ward and stepped away from the bed.

He checked the map and saw that Hermione was still at the cellar door. The little dot named Nathanael had vanished.

Harry left the room and closed the door behind him, dispelling the silencing charm on it as well. No trace.

He walked down the hall as carefully as before, making for the master bedroom. The map told him that Hermione had vanished, so she was likely in the cellar.

Harry found no special protection on the master bedroom and entered easily. This was proving to be far simpler than expected. Were the Malfoys really arrogant enough to think they didn't need to take any more precautions than those that came with the house?

The bedroom was huge and adorned with all manner of priceless trinkets. The double bed was tucked in and impeccable if it weren't for the two human-sized bumps distorting the covers. Harry wondered how to go about this. They were sleeping too close to each other to only silence one of them.

In the end, he put a silent ward over the whole bed, and readied his wand. A stunner hit Narcissa in the head, the only visible part of her body, ensuring that she couldn't interfere. Lucius jerked awake at the sound, and his hand darted to the bedside table, probably on instinct. His cane was resting there, holding his wand inside. Harry whipped his wand through the air and sheered through the cane, Lucius's outstretched arm, and then his neck in one swift movement. There was more blood than expected, and Harry siphoned it off his clothes without hesitation.

Harry removed the ward and checked the map. Damn it! Dobby was moving towards the stairs! Had he heard something? Did they trigger an alarm only the house-elf could hear?

In the hallway, Harry kept moving, leaving the bedrooms behind and making for the opposite side of the house. Hermione's dot suddenly reappeared, following Dobby. Harry's heart thumped as they drew closer and closer together… until Dobby stopped moving and Hermione kept going. She must have stunned him, the poor elf.

Harry doubled back to the first upstairs hallway, catching a glimpse of camouflaged movement in the darkness ahead.

_Harry._

_It's me._

Hermione rushed out of the darkness with bundles of papers and ledgers in her arms.

_What's all that? I'm done up here, by the way._

_Files that were among the Dark artefacts in the cellar. I have the diary, too._

_Should we go?_

_No, there's something else I need to check. Lead me to Lucius' study._

Harry consulted the map and set off. He couldn't hear Hermione's footsteps, but he knew she was there. He barely noticed that Lucius' dot had also vanished from the map.

They reached the study and ducked inside. There was a lavish wooden desk and bookshelves full of files and books. Harry started delving to look for any hidden compartments. Hermione conjured a sack to carry her papers and the diary in before joining him.

Most of the files were legitimate financial records of different businesses the Malfoys had a stake in, and the rest were about the family's personal funds. Harry was about to stop delving when he encountered a tiny pocket of concealment magic on the wall behind the desk. Hermione was there before him, her wand already moving in the same pattern she used for the boundary defences.

Harry kept watch on the map. Nobody was moving.

One of the polished stones Hermione was working on vanished, revealing a hidden compartment that seemed a lot bigger on the inside. She delved the contents before summoning them all into her sack. Harry couldn't see her face, but he had the distinct feeling she was satisfied with what she found.

_Remember how I said I had plans for dealing with Fudge? This is the first step._

It made sense. Instead of Malfoy using his control over Fudge to make the fight against Voldemort more difficult, they could use him to help the Light.

_Let's get out of here,_ he thought.

They left the study, replacing the concealed compartment as they did, and made for the entrance chamber. According to the map, neither of the boys had noticed anything, and Narcissa was still out cold. They passed Dobby near the stairs; the elf was face down on the ground, unconscious.

As they left through the front door (locking it behind them, of course), Harry couldn't believe how easy it had been. The Malfoys had been absolutely helpless against anyone who broke through the boundary spells. The rest of the Death Eaters wouldn't have the kind of resources Lucius had, so they would probably be even easier.

_I think you're forgetting something, Harry. I don't mean to sound egotistical, but we are both rather good at magic, and our powers are growing daily. What's easy for us might be utterly impossible for someone else._

They passed through the gate without issue. Harry took Hermione's hand, but she pulled away.

_I'm not taking these things back to the Hollow until I'm certain there's no magical trace on them, _she explained mentally.

_What should I do?_

_You should go to the Hollow and strip off. Clean the clothes thoroughly, remove the charms from them, and banish the balaclava. Clear your wand, too. I'll join you in a couple of hours._

Harry wanted to kiss her, but it would be foolish on the off chance somebody was somehow watching them. Instead, he Disapparated.

The Hollow seemed very enclosed after standing out in the open. Harry followed Hermione's instructions, going over each item of clothing with several cleaning charms just to be sure. He even gave himself a going-over in case some blood had hit his skin.

He found himself sitting naked at his desk, looking at the clothes floating in the air above him. Nathanael Nott and Lucius Malfoy were dead without so much as a whisper. It was strange to think that he and Hermione were very effective assassins, but the evidence spoke for itself. Hermione especially had performed admirably as well, considering she didn't have the comfort of the map.

"It looks like dancing has given you a bit of definition," said Hermione from behind him. "If we keep it up, you're going to look much more athletic this time." Harry turned to face her. She was hefting the sack full of papers. "However, may I request that you put some clothes on before we start going through this stuff?"

He started, realising he was still nude, and hurried to pull his clothes back on. "I got distracted," he explained.

"I saw." Hermione was smirking as she carried the sack over to the table.

The piece of parchment with _OPERATION MALFOY _on it was banished in a second. They hadn't needed to write anything down, and they'd have to destroy it anyway. Hermione upended the sack, sending a waterfall of ledgers and files onto the large table. She banished the sack and waved her wand again to make all of the materials order themselves neatly. The diary sat on its own further down the table. A problem for later.

"I take it there was no magical trace on them?" Harry asked, fiddling with his belt buckle.

"Nothing. The Malfoys seem fond of betting everything on a single line of defence." She stepped away from the table. "Can you start looking through some of these things? I need to do my clothes too."

"Sure thing. You might want to wash your skin too, just in case," he suggested.

"Can't be too careful, I suppose."

Harry dragged his chair over to the table and opened the first file in reach. It was about a woman, a Ministry worker. It listed her annual salary, her working hours and department, and had a little moving picture as well. At the bottom of the page, Harry was disturbed to find a section labelled _Secrets._ Apparently the woman claimed to be pureblood, but was in fact half-blood, and not only that, but she was living with a Muggle woman in London. There was evidence suggesting that the two were romantically involved. They both adored their Kneazle-cat crossbreed, but the person they bought it from was an unregistered breeder (a fact they weren't aware of), meaning that a Ministry raid could be ordered on the grounds that the couple had bought from the black market.

Beneath that section was _Gifts,_ which seemed to list the things the Malfoys were currently extorting from this woman. A percentage of her earnings at work, along with insider information when requested, meant that the Ministry would 'overlook' her 'transgression'.

It was disgusting. Harry was so revolted that he put the file down, not wanting to read any more. There were _so many_ of these files! How many people did Lucius Malfoy have in his pocket? Harry only wished they had been able to kill him sooner.

"They really are the _worst_ kind of people," hissed Hermione as she pulled her chair up beside him. "And to think, even after they defected, they still had all of this."

"They probably would have just stayed quiet in their manor, pulling the strings and controlling people like usual," growled Harry. "This is before Voldemort has even been reborn! They are just evil down to their bones!"

Hermione grabbed a file from a separate stack. "We're going to use this to keep Fudge in line, and anyone we don't need will be set free." She read a few lines before gasping.

"I don't want to know," said Harry.

She was shaking her head. "You'll want to know this, Harry." He took the file and scanned it. In moments, he agreed wholeheartedly.

It was a list of living Death Eaters, their families, and their weak points.

And under each name were their most frequented locations.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Now why would Malfoy have a list like that?  
><strong>


	9. Chapter 8: Laying Waste

**A/N: Surprise Christmas present! Everyone have a nice holiday now, you hear?**

**Chapter 8: Laying Waste**

"This is everything we could have wanted and more," said Hermione.

"Lucius must have been tracking his old Death Eater buddies. What was he extorting from them, though?" Harry's head brushed against Hermione's as they both read and re-read the documents.

"I don't think he was extorting anything from them. Any one of them could testify against him if he tried to. I think, when you have this many dangerous ex-allies, you wouldn't want to lose track of them." Hermione bit her lip. "This gives us an enormous advantage, Harry. Even if we don't unravel any knots this summer, we could still get a lot of these targets out of the way. Let's see… we have two-and-a-half weeks until August. What do you think we should do with them?"

"I want Sirius to be our next priority," said Harry, before grunting in annoyance. "But I don't see a way to do it legitimately in only two weeks."

"We could work on that at the Burrow, couldn't we? That will give us a whole other month to work with, plus direct access to Scabbers," suggested Hermione.

"Assuming we can evade Mrs Weasley. So then…" Harry got up to pace beside the table. "The knots and lines won't change, no matter how long we wait, but these Death Eater locations could be completely different by next summer. I think we need to move on them now before they can slip away."

"I agree with your reasoning. Death Eaters are too well-practiced at avoiding justice to put them on hold."

"But after just taking care of Malfoy and Nott, should we lie low and stop meeting for a few days?"

"No." Hermione got up too, putting the file on the table. "We can't alter our schedule in any way. If there is a deviation, any hidden watchers might notice the timing coinciding with the double assassination. We should continue as usual."

Harry stopped pacing and sat down again. "We need to take out as many targets as possible in the next two weeks. The ones in Azkaban are out of reach, so who does that leave us?"

Hermione closed her eyes and Harry knew she was searching her memory palace. "Avery, the Carrow siblings, Crouch Junior, Crabbe, Gibbon, Goyle, Greyback, Jugson, Rowle, and Yaxley."

"Er, right." Harry was a little taken aback. "Well, that's a list we can work with. I think we should start with Greyback."

"Why?" It was Hermione's turn to look surprised.

"Because we don't know how many victims he and his pack infected. If we can prevent even one new case of lycanthropy, it will be worth it."

Hermione rushed over and hugged him. "That's an excellent idea," she whispered. "Lupin would approve."

"I hope so." Harry grimaced. "I think most people would call us monsters for doing all of this."

She didn't reply, instead turning to the file with a sigh. They scanned Greyback's profile again, this time making notes on a separate piece of parchment. At the top was written _OPERATION GREYBACK_ in thick black letters.

"According to Malfoy's sources, Greyback and his pack have recently been roaming the Hagg Wood, near Hawkshead in England." Hermione scribbled it down on the parchment. "We'll have to start mapping that whole area immediately. It's much bigger than Malfoy manor."

Harry shook his head. "We can't use the same tactic. The Homonculous Charm would probably take weeks to populate a map of that size."

"Oh, yes, you're right." Hermione blinked. "How should we do it, then?"

"We could put detection spells all over the forest?"

"That's a very large area."

"How do you hunt a pack of werewolves?" Harry drummed his fingers on the table.

"We might just have to Apparate around the forest until we hear something." Hermione pursed her lips in distaste. "It's very inefficient."

Harry checked his watch. "You need to go to bed soon. It's almost one. I don't think we should try to kill Greyback tonight."

"But we have very little time to work with! I can go without sleep for one night."

"No deviation, remember?" Harry said firmly. "I'll spend the rest of this night setting up maps at some of the other Death Eater locations." He shuffled through some files. "Some of these are smaller than Malfoy manor. Look, Gibbon frequents a tavern in Knockturn Alley. The Cartographical Charm would cover that in minutes. And the Carrow twins share a country house in Scotland. They probably aren't as wealthy as the Malfoys, so it should be easy to map." He looked up at Hermione. "I'll get as many maps as I can and start the Homonculous Charm immediately. In a week or so, we should be able to kill a good number of them on the same night."

"Well… alright. I don't like the idea of you mapping them alone, though."

"If anything happens, I'll use my ring." Harry gave a wry smile. "And I _am_ capable of taking care of myself, you know."

Hermione pecked him on the cheek. "Watch out for trolls." She vanished silently.

Harry chuckled and stuffed some parchment into his pocket. He charmed his clothes to blend in with the night and performed a Disillusionment Charm on top of that. "Next stop, Knockturn Alley," he muttered, then Apparated away.

If Knockturn Alley was ominous and dimly lit during the day, it was downright sinister at night. A surprising number of shops were open, though it was hard to tell with most. While the odd building had a bit of advertisement or a flashy sign, most seemed to want to blend in with the surroundings in the same way Harry was.

Gibbon's tavern was named _The Cackling Cockatrice_ and was to be found further down the alley than Harry had ever been before. He set off, moving swiftly but staying close to the walls in case somebody was on a midnight stroll. Sometimes he could see movement in the side streets and between the shops, back-alley deals and muggers who lived for this time of night.

_The Cackling Cockatrice_ was much smaller than Malfoy manor, that was for certain. It was a squashed, ugly building crammed between a 'used' broomstick store and a building that was boarded up, even the doors.

Harry pulled his parchment out and began the Cartographical Charm immediately. Lines of ink began tracing the tavern and the surrounding buildings. As he waited, Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

_If Gibbon's inside right now, I could save a lot of time._

He looked in the windows, but all the curtains were drawn. Yellow light flickered from behind them, accompanied by the hushed tones of many people having low conversations. The door opened suddenly, and Harry froze. A man stumbled out, muttering in another language. It wasn't Gibbon, but it did give Harry an opportunity.

Harry slipped inside before the door closed, then remained motionless. There were seven patrons, three in a group, two together, and two on their own. None of them looked up at the sound of the door closing. He scanned their faces (the ones that were visible, anyway) but found no Death Eaters staring back at him.

Disappointed, Harry slipped back outside and checked the map. It had already finished the tavern and was working on the other buildings, so Harry stopped the spell and Disapparated.

Back at the Hollow, he dropped the map on the desk beside the Strike Map and began the Homonculous Charm. There was no time to waste. Hopefully Hermione would be able to merge the two maps when she was next here. For now, Harry was fine with keeping them separate.

He took another sheet of parchment and studied the Carrow's profiles again. Their Scottish home was quite far from any Muggle settlements, naturally, but the profile included a picture of the house from a distance, which gave Harry enough to work with.

After checking his camouflage charms, he Apparated to a grassy, freezing cold hillside. Shivering, he looked down the slope and saw dim lights in the windows. The Carrows were probably right there, relaxing. They weren't that clever, maybe he could make a move on them right now…

No, Hermione would never forgive him for doing something that foolish. Impatience would ruin everything. Harry took a deep breath and Apparated closer to the house. It was a nice house, but nowhere near as elaborate as Malfoy manor. He used some bushes for cover as he approached, delving for protective magic all the while. Once he'd almost reached the front yard, he stopped and crouched on the damp ground.

A moment later, the Cartographical Charm was working diligently to capture every detail of the area. Harry watched as the last lights went out on the second floor. It was strange to think of Death Eaters having relatively normal lives at home. There were probably a few Dark secrets hidden in this place, he reckoned.

This map took longer than the tavern, and by the time Harry returned to the Hollow and began the Homonculous Charm, it was three-thirty.

Shaking his head to stay alert, Harry looked over the profiles again. Jugson frequented a chapel every couple of days to sell illegal potions to a small number of loyal clients. That seemed simple enough.

When four-thirty came around, there were three maps on the table, each slowly working with the Homonculous Charm. Harry was siphoning water from his drenched clothes using his wand, shivering all the while. Gibbon, the Carrows, and Jugson were enough for one night. Hopefully Malfoy's death wouldn't disrupt their schedules. At least in the Carrows case, that was unlikely. People rarely left their homes just because a former associate died.

Harry was in his bedroom by five-fifteen. Nobody in the house was awake, and his eyelids were very heavy, so he pulled the blinds closed and flopped into bed. Hedwig was out hunting as usual, so she likely wouldn't be back until mid-morning. They'd made so much progress in one night, but there was still so much to do.

* * *

><p>Hermione watched from a second-floor window as her parents pulled out of the driveway and drove away. She'd been waiting all morning for them to go out, and now she had her chance. With her wand out, she darted downstairs and to the front door. A simple detection charm tied to her left sock would warn her if they came back early. At the other end of the house, she did the same for the back door.<p>

In the Hollow, she walked over to the table and began inspecting the three new maps there. It seemed Harry had been rather ambitious last night, and his Homonculous Charms were working well. Gibbon's tavern was the smallest area, but it received the most unique visitors. That would slow things down by a day or two.

Upon realising that the other two maps were of the Carrows house and Jugson's chapel, Hermione was a little irritated. The chapel probably wasn't that bad, since it wasn't Jugson's actual residence, just a place he sold illegal potions. But the Carrows house could have been extremely dangerous. Alecto and Amycus were the kind of people who could torture and kill children for fun. From the looks of the map, Harry had been quite close as well, probably just beyond any spell boundaries they might have. Was this because she had mentioned the troll incident? His thoughts had seemed amused before she left last night, but maybe he had thought about it a bit more and decided to prove to her (or perhaps himself?) that he was extremely capable in his own right.

No, no, that wasn't like him. Maybe before the troll incident, but not now. Hermione watched the little dots and nametags flicker on the new maps. They were erratic and unreliable, and would be for a few days yet.

_How are we going to deal with Greyback?_

Hermione bit her lip in thought. There weren't many wizards who'd hunted werewolves and lived to tell of it, but the few that had mentioned that they often lived in disgusting conditions in an attempt to stay true to their animalistic nature and abandon their humanity the way that humans had abandoned them.

There were spells that detected people, so maybe if she reworked them a bit, she could border the forest with them and create a net that would alert her when Greyback and his pack were in there. But it was such a large area… that would take too long. Greyback might have moved on by then.

She paced up and down the aisle. There was probably a den within the Hagg Wood somewhere… all they had to do was find it. Seized by a sudden impulse, she Apparated with the little image of the forest in her mind.

Upon arriving, she gasped and quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm. That was an incredibly dangerous slip-up. Without pausing, she used _homenum revelio_ to check for any watchers. Nothing happened, but she wasn't sure if werewolves could be detected the same way.

The forest bristled in the breeze, and something small scurried through some dead leaves to her left. Hermione suddenly felt stupid. What were the odds that she would somehow discover the den just by Apparating around the forest? It was nearly as big as the town nearby.

Nevertheless, she decided she might as well try. The leaves at her feet were disturbed as she vanished, only to appear a hundred metres away. Another cast of _homenum revelio_ revealed nothing, so she continued. _It _should_ reveal werewolves in their human form; they are just humans with lycanthropy, after all._

Around the forest she went, Apparating and casting every few seconds, trying to cover as much ground as possible. The trees and bushes became a blur as she hopped from place to place, slowly spiralling towards the centre of the forest. _So much for being efficient. This is only a step up from howling and hoping they hear me._

On her last attempt, her left sock began to warm up. Mum and Dad were home. Sighing in defeat, Hermione cast _homenum revelio_ one last time and prepared to Apparate.

Somebody growled nearby. "Did you feel that?" said a hoarse, bestial voice.

"Someone's out there… I smell her…" rasped someone else. Hermione couldn't see where they were coming from.

Her heart thumping, she backed against a tree and kept her wand raised. The Disillusionment Charm didn't work on scent! Why, oh why, did she decide to wear her mother's perfume today?

"Fenrir," cooed a female voice, coming closer. "Oh, let me ravish it, please?"

"No," growled a familiar voice. Greyback stalked into view from behind some trees. He moved like a wolf on the prowl, soft footsteps and bared teeth. His clothes were ragged and unwashed. Three more people followed him, two men who kept their heads low and hunched while following Greyback, and a woman with a horribly scarred face that watched her leader with undisguised adoration. Hermione was reminded of Bellatrix Lestrange looking at Voldemort.

"Where is she?" hissed one of the lesser men. "I smell her... pretty, pretty perfume for a pretty, pretty girlie…"

"Quiet!" snapped Greyback, and the other men recoiled as if slapped. Greyback looked around, sniffing the air, until his eyes stopped on Hermione. He grinned wolfishly. "Hello little one," he said softly. His eyes scanned her camouflaged form. _His eyesight must be excellent_, thought Hermione, only to realise her knees were shaking, which was probably what gave her away.

"Please," moaned the female werewolf, "Let me have the first bite."

Greyback didn't reply, instead taking a little step towards Hermione. "You're very little, aren't you?" he said, still in that soft, taunting voice.

"If she's a child, and she just cast a spell to detect us, don't that mean the Ministry'll be coming? The Trace will 'ave her," whimpered one of the men, backing away slowly. "I don't want to be put in chains… not the chains…"

Greyback lost his playful expression. "I won't give up a fresh recruit. Just means we don't have much time." He suddenly dropped into a dead sprint, coming straight for Hermione.

She slashed her wand through the air, and Fenrir Greyback's head separated from his shoulders. His body ran another step before falling with a heavy thud, while his head rolled into a bush.

The female werewolf shrieked and pulled a wand from her shabby clothes. Hermione took her down with an arc of electricity that left her skin smoking. The two lesser men bolted, one of them screaming about chains. She gave chase, nailing the shouting one with a messy Blasting Curse that brought a thick tree down as well.

Hermione ran as fast as her twelve-year-old legs could carry her, but the last werewolf was too used to the forest, while she stumbled over every root and bush. In desperation, she curved her wand through the air above her, shooting thick red spikes into the canopy. This was one of the spells she'd created for use against neo-Death Eaters.

The spikes blasted through branches and weaved around trees as they chased their target. Four were wasted against trees as the werewolf ducked and scrambled away, but the last one shot straight through his chest.

Hermione panted heavily, leaning on her knees. _That was _not_ how I wanted things to turn out._ Despite her own recklessness, the job was technically done. Greyback wasn't going to be a problem, and if there were more werewolves in his pack, they were now without a leader and would hopefully fight each other or leave the pack entirely.

She Apparated back to the Hollow and set about cleaning her clothes. Only as she pulled her socks back on did she remember that her parents had arrived home.

Hermione Apparated to a little alcove around the side of her house and tucked her wand away. She walked around the corner and pushed open the front door, trying to look casual. Dad was descending the stairs, looking a bit frantic. His relieved expression upon spotting her was very gratifying.

"Sweetie, where were you?" He rushed over to pick her up with a grunt. "I found her!" he called into the house.

"I just went for a walk," Hermione said with a shrug.

"You know it's not safe for kids to go wandering on their own! You used to lecture _me_ about it!" Dad closed the front door and sighed heavily.

Mum suddenly appeared in the hallway. "Where did you go?" Her voice was a bit tense, but Hermione could see she was as relieved as Dad.

"For a walk, apparently," said Dad, hefting Hermione in his arms.

"A walk? On your own? You're smarter than that!" Mum brushed hair out of her eyes.

"I could always use magic if I got into trouble," Hermione said reasonably.

"We know you could, but you're still new at it, honey," said Mum. She exchanged a look with Dad. "No matter how capable you get, we'd both very much appreciate it if you didn't leave the house alone. We'll just worry about you."

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, looking down and conveniently avoiding making any promises she couldn't keep.

* * *

><p>Harry was distracted all day. He'd managed to sleep until midday, when Aunt Petunia woke him up because Hedwig was making noise tapping on his window, and she thought he was being deliberately annoying. He cleaned and did regular chores while Dudley watched T.V. and ate anything that came too close.<p>

When his 'shift' came around again, he practically threw himself out the door. There was no way the Homonculous Charms would be done after only one night, but there were still other things they could accomplish. Getting more maps started as soon as possible might mean a few extra Death Eaters out of the way.

At the Hollow, Harry rushed over to Hermione's desk, where she was re-examining the Death Eater profiles.

"Evening," he said cheerfully, and she jumped at his voice. He raised an eyebrow curiously. Hermione spent almost every second they were together inside his head; he hadn't been able to startle her in months.

"I have a bit of news," she said quickly.

"Oh?" Harry dragged the chair from his desk over to sit beside her. "Extremely distracting news, I take it?"

"I was just contemplating your possible reactions."

Harry lost his cheerfulness. This sounded serious. "What is it?"

"Greyback is dead, along with three members of his pack."

"But that's fantastic news! Where's the problem?"

"I killed him." Hermione looked away. "Earlier today I went to Hagg Wood and started Apparating around and casting _homenum revelio_, searching for the den. I didn't find it, but I found Greyback and three cronies. They could smell my perfume, and Greyback noticed a shift in my camouflage, so I was forced to take them down."

Harry was frozen in his chair. "You… fought four werewolves completely alone, in broad daylight, in some random part of a forest?"

"It was an impulse, I just wondered how effective such a tactic might be, and then things just got out of hand." Hermione squirmed as Harry digested this information.

"Should I even bother regurgitating all the times you've told me to not be reckless?" Harry said finally, sighing. "You did really well, and I'm proud of you, but that was _so stupid,_ Hermione. If you decided a certain tactic was worth trying, we should have tried it together."

"I know! I'm sorry, I just… I'm not normally prone to reckless impulses – maybe it's the puberty affecting my judgement – but I swear I won't do anything like that again."

Harry could hear the sincerity in her voice, so he kissed the top of her head. "Alright, alright. Let's focus on the positives: Greyback and some other bad werewolves are dead and gone. You've probably saved countless lives already." Hermione smiled to show she appreciated his attempt to cheer her, but her face said she still felt guilty for leaving him out. "Look, there are plenty more Death Eaters to choose from. Don't fret over this one. It's over, let's move on."

Hermione took a breath and nodded. "The Homonculous Charm is still working, so we should spend tonight mapping a few other places in preparation. I've also decided that the Strike Map will only include the maps of places we have already struck at. These new maps will be separate until we kill Gibbon, Jugson, and the Carrows. After that, I'll merge them with the Strike Map as originally planned."

"Sounds good." Harry tapped the table, thinking. "You know, if we slaughter every supposed ex-Death Eater except Snape, won't that cast suspicion on him when Voldemort returns again?"

"I suppose we should leave a couple… but who?"

"I want Neville to have Bellatrix this time," said Harry. "Once he shares the details about his parents with us, we'll train him hard so he has a good shot of taking her down."

"I don't think Neville is a killer, Harry," said Hermione softly. "We're desensitised to it after everything we've seen and done, but he's just a kid at the moment. I think preparing him to kill is going too far."

Harry disagreed, but the problem was far enough in the future that he decided not to press on with it. "Anyway, let's leave the Lestranges for now. Crouch Junior, that's another tough one. It really depends how Voldemort's schemes play out in the next few years. They're both out of our reach right now regardless." Harry spoke as he thought. "Crabbe and Goyle we can leave, maybe Avery as well. That should be enough, shouldn't it?"

"Hopefully. This is just a precaution. It might turn out to be completely unnecessary."

"Have you heard any news regarding Malfoy?"

Hermione shook her head. "I haven't subscribed to the Daily Prophet yet, so I'm as clueless as you are. Hold on a moment." She suddenly Disapparated, only to reappear a minute later, holding a paper. It was dripping slightly as though it had been lying in a gutter. "I figured there would be a paper lying in Diagon Alley somewhere. This is the evening issue." Harry got up to read over her shoulder.

_DOUBLE ASSASSINATION: MALFOY AND NOTT FAMILIES DEMAND JUSTICE_

_Prominent business owners and members of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' Lucius Malfoy and Nathanael Nott were found dead in Malfoy manor this morning. Mr Nott and his son Theodore had been visiting the Malfoy family and were sharing the guest room when the attack happened. Both men were killed in their beds as they slept, though it appears Mr Malfoy woke up during the attack and attempted to defend himself. It is unknown if he managed to wound the assassin or assassins._

_This sudden, unprovoked attack has left both families devastated. Mr Nott leaves behind his son Theodore as the new head of the family, while Mr Malfoy's wife Narcissa is left to raise their son Draco alone. Wizarding Britain is in a state of shock at this unexpected turn of events, and letters from friends and allies of the two families are pouring in to offer their condolences._

"It doesn't mention anything was stolen," said Hermione thoughtfully.

"I think 'please help us, they took our blackmail materials' wouldn't get them as much sympathy," Harry replied dryly.

_A statement from the Auror office confirmed that they were investigating, though one Auror mentioned that they would have made more progress if Mrs Malfoy hadn't waited so long to contact them. This statement was quickly retracted._

Harry grunted. "She must have taken time to hide the cellar door again."

_No suspects have been arrested yet._

_A funeral service will be held at the Malfoy and Nott tombs respectively sometime this week. The Minister of Magic himself is confirmed to be in attendance, as well as many other high-ranking officials._

_We here at the Daily Prophet would like to offer our sincerest sympathies to the grieving families. We share their hope that the ones responsible will be found soon._

Hermione put the paper down. "This is about what I expected," she said.

"Everybody is sympathetic, but I bet a fair few will be raising their drinks in thanks tonight." Harry sat back down. "All those people the Malfoys manipulated… I wish they knew that their files were safe now."

"I get the feeling that the Aurors won't be allowed to look too hard for evidence, either. Narcissa will be keeping them away from anything that might have traces of Dark magic. It's a good thing you only used Cutting Charms."

"We need to get some more maps going," said Harry. "If the Lestranges, Crabbe, Goyle, and Avery are going to be allowed to live for now, that leaves…"

"Rowle and Yaxley are the last two that aren't in Azkaban. There might be a few more Death Eaters, but I don't know them by name."

"Rowle and Yaxley it is." Harry picked up Rowle's file and tossed Yaxley's to Hermione. "Rowle's family used to have a pretty good manor, but they lost a lot of money and prestige a few decades ago. He lives in a tiny house on a cliff. I don't think we'll even need a map for him."

"Really? Maybe we can take him out tonight. It would be good to not have to wait for the maps for once," said Hermione.

"What about Yaxley?"

"He has a lavish home in Somerset. We'll definitely need to map it." Hermione showed him the profile, which had a little picture of a tall, severe-looking house with thick boundary walls. It wasn't as big as Malfoy manor by any means, but it was still complex enough that a map would be necessary.

"We'll get his map started and then go for Rowle," said Harry determinedly.

Hermione showed her agreement by charming her clothes to blend in with the night. Harry followed suit, and once their Disillusionment Charms were in place, he took Hermione's hand and Apparated with the picture in mind.

They arrived among some short, ugly shrubs and immediately crouched. The Yaxley residence stood like a giant in the night, towering over the barren land around it. They clearly weren't as fond of luxurious gardens as the Malfoys were. Harry started the Cartographical Charm and rested back on his heels. He wondered if they could simply bombard the house with powerful spells. They hadn't used anything that destructive in a while, but he had no doubt they could bring the building down very efficiently. Wouldn't that be simpler than using maps and biding their time?

_But we wouldn't truly be able to confirm his death, _said Hermione's voice inside his head. _He might be able to Apparate away before any of our spells kill him. I admit that with enough power, we probably could get him straight away. But we need to do this right and confirm each and every kill we make. No trace, Harry._

Harry supposed she had the right idea. It was just difficult sitting and watching for so long, especially when their targets could vanish at any moment.

The map finished and they Apparated back to the Hollow. Hermione began what would be their final Homonculous Charm, at least for a while. "Imagine if we can get all of these targets out of the way before school even starts," she said brightly. "We've already disrupted some of Voldemort's key sources of power. He'll have no ready-made werewolf army or blackmail network to call upon."

"He'll always find followers. Certain people crave a leader like him," said Harry.

"Yes, but it will take time. This is all assuming he finds a way to regain physical form without your blood."

"He has to. Only he can kill the Horcrux inside me, and he needs a body for me to destroy."

Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "You know we might end up being forced to help him regain his body, don't you?"

"I don't want to consider anything like that yet. Not until we're prepared." Harry gave a grim smile. "Don't underestimate him, Hermione. He'll find a way."

After placing Yaxley's map on the table beside the others, Hermione took a deep breath and held Harry's hand. "Rowle?" she asked quietly.

He nodded, and they Apparated to a steep, rocky cliff overlooking crashing waves and jagged spikes of stone. The powerful ocean wind sent their Disillusioned clothes flapping, which would make them noticeable.

_We move fast._

Harry dropped into a crouched run towards a little, poorly built house near the top of the cliff. He delved ahead, perhaps not as subtly as he should have, but enough to detect any protective enchantments. There was nothing. Rowle probably didn't think anybody even knew he lived there. The life of an ex-Death Eater with a diminished family name wasn't glamorous in the slightest. If there were any other Rowle family members, they likely wanted nothing to do with Thorfinn.

Harry reached the front door and unlocked it instead of bursting in. There was a loud _crack_ on the opposite side of the house, followed by the sound of glass shattering. Harry entered the house and found the huge, blond man shirtless and pointing his wand at his back window, which was broken.

Rowle spun at the sound of the door creaking, his wand raised and probably a millisecond from casting a Killing Curse. Harry disarmed him while ducking to the side just in case, then caught Rowle in the neck with a Cutting Charm. The Death Eater roared in pain, which became a gurgle as he collapsed. There was a lot of wheezing and choking, so Harry slashed his wand once more, and the house went silent.

Hermione stepped in after him. "Sorry about that, I decided to cause a distraction on the other side of the house so he'd be looking away from the door."

"Good thinking." Harry looked around at the messy interior. Rowle was living like a bum, and the smell told him that he'd been doing it for years – maybe even since the First Wizarding War ended. He delved with his wand just to make sure they hadn't missed anything, and found a curious Silencing Charm underneath a filthy rug in front of the fireplace.

Hermione levitated the rug away, revealing a trapdoor. They were alarmed instantly. If someone was down there and they heard their voices…

The trapdoor shot open from a flick from Hermione's wand. A ladder led into a hidden basement. Harry cast _homenum revelio_, and felt the presence of a person down there. He exchanged a wide-eyed look with Hermione, then dropped down the hole.

His wand was raised before he'd even straightened up. As he took in the scene before him, he began to wish that Rowle had suffered more.

A woman in tattered clothes was chained to the floor. Her hair was matted with filth, and her skin had a layer of grime. Two bowls lay nearby, one half-full of water. The girl shivered at the sound of their footsteps. Harry felt sick.

Hermione rushed over to the woman, but she shrunk back, whimpering. "Shh, we're here to help you, it's going to be okay," said Hermione, sounding on the verge of tears. "He's dead, he's dead, you're safe."

Harry climbed out of the basement and stumbled outside to empty his stomach. Killing someone, even brutally, was one thing, but to keep them prisoner in such conditions… what had Rowle done to her?

Hermione exited the house, levitating the unconscious woman behind her. "I-I've already erased her memory of our voices," she said shakily. Harry put his arms around her, not feeling too good himself. "I'm going to heal and clean her, then take her to a Muggle hospital."

"She's a Muggle?"

"Yes. Rowle, he – he… what a _disgusting_ person! I wish he could suffer!" Hermione sobbed.

"I know."

They didn't say anything as Hermione lowered the woman to the ground and they set about cleaning and healing her many cuts and bruises. Unconscious, the woman looked a lot more peaceful.

"I think we should take her memories of Rowle as well," said Harry quietly. "Nobody should have to live with that."

Hermione nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks, and did the deed. "I looked at her mind. She was kidnapped a month ago from a town south of here. Her family is probably still searching for her. We can take her to the hospital and the doctors will take it from there. With luck, she won't even suspect anything too horrible happened to her."

"Alright." Harry stood and levelled his wand at the house. He funnelled all of his anger and sadness into a Blasting Curse that sent the house over the cliff to smash against the rocks. The basement remained until he angled another curse at the ground, ripping a large trench into the earth and destroying the woman's former prison.

When he turned back, Hermione was alone. "You took her to the hospital already?" he asked.

"I knew the town." Hermione took his hand. "My cousins live there."

They Apparated back to the Hollow in low spirits. Harry wished he'd gone for Rowle immediately instead of Malfoy.

"There was no possible way we could know about her," said Hermione, who was meditating and probably locking the woman away in her memory palace. "There will always be regrets, no matter how hard we try to get it right. Let's just be thankful that she's alive and will likely make a full recovery."

"Last time… nobody would have come to save her. She would have been trapped with Rowle for who knows how long…" Harry paced wearily.

"It could have easily been one of my cousins," Hermione whispered, giving up on meditating. "She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"We saved her," said Harry, dropping into a chair. "We saved her."

But it really didn't feel like it.

* * *

><p>Hermione didn't show up at the Hollow for three nights. She left a note each time explaining that there was nothing to do, so she was taking the time to sleep, but Harry knew she was still thinking about the Rowle incident.<p>

On the fourth night, she also left a couple-days-old Muggle newspaper clipping describing a missing girl finally being returned to her family. According to the doctors, she was in good health but was unable to remember anything from the night of her disappearance to the moment she stumbled into the waiting room. Comments from her family expressed their unfathomable relief at her safe return.

Hermione showed up on the fifth night, which was good because the maps of Gibbon's tavern and Jugson's chapel were done, and the Carrows looked to be only another half-day from completion.

Neither of them mentioned the woman again as they prepared their clothes and Disillusionment Charms. Jugson wasn't at the chapel tonight – for all they knew, he only went during the day – but Gibbon's nametag had appeared on the map of _The Cackling Cockatrice_, so they weren't going to waste any time.

They appeared in Knockturn Alley in the same place Harry had the first time, and after checking for watchers, they made their way to the tavern. There were five people in there tonight, including the owner.

Gibbon was drinking with someone named Solderbeck, and neither of them noticed the door opening and closing on its own.

_Stun them all, then wipe their memories? Or wait for Gibbon to leave?_

_We can't wait,_ replied Hermione's voice, _He might Apparate out of here instead of walking._

_Alright, I've got an idea. Get ready to slip back outside._

Harry levelled his camouflaged wand at Gibbon, who was listening intently to Solderbeck's muttering. _Imperio!_ He felt the heady sense of control flow through his wand and into Gibbon, and the Death Eater stiffened slightly.

Solderbeck stopped talking, apparently waiting for a response. "I'll be back in a second," slurred Gibbon, scraping back his chair.

Harry and Hermione slipped outside and down the street, taking cover in a little alcove of a boarded up building. The door to _The Cackling Cockatrice_ opened and Gibbon walked out calmly and stood in the middle of the street.

While Harry kept him there, Hermione flicked her wand. At first Harry thought she was aiming for Gibbon and had missed, but then he noticed the stone awning on the shop opposite the tavern. It cracked and broke suddenly, falling forwards into the street and crushing Gibbon with a loud _bang._ There was no mistaking the Death Eater was extremely dead.

As a few people shouted from inside buildings, and the tavern door burst open, Hermione took Harry's hand and Apparated back to the Hollow.

The tavern map showed Solderbeck was in the middle of the street, probably standing over Gibbon's crushed body. The tavern owner was lurking in the doorway, and a few other dots in surrounding buildings hovered near the windows, looking for danger.

"Malfoy, Nott, Greyback, Rowle, and Gibbon," he said. "Even if we don't manage to get Jugson and Yaxley before Ron's owl arrives, we've made a good start."

"Are you starting to regret panicking so much about whether we would be able to change things drastically?" said Hermione, stripping off as usual. They always cleaned their clothes after an operation.

Harry joined her. "At the time, I believed my fears were justified," he replied stiffly, before chuckling. "But, yes."

Hermione giggled as well. It was good to hear her laugh again. "Harry," she said slowly, "Can we try something different? It's only ten o'clock and we have nothing else to do tonight."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Dancing?"

Harry smiled. "I'd love to."

* * *

><p>Hermione turned in at midnight, and Harry slept in the Hollow until five o'clock. Dancing with Hermione had been a lot of fun, especially since she had learned a few new things in the summer and was more than happy to teach him. There had been no mention of Death Eaters or assassinations for those couple of hours, just smooth movement and laughter that echoed through the stacks.<p>

It did them both a world of good in terms of stress relief. Even when Harry was woken up early and forced to work in the garden, he managed to maintain his good mood. They really were making a difference this time. There was no telling how many deaths they had prevented already.

With Yaxley's map ready for tonight, and only a couple of days until Ron invited them to the Burrow, Harry was becoming cautiously optimistic. The diary was safe in the Hollow, and the Chamber of Secrets was going to remain closed for the rest of its existence.

Harry enjoyed a break from the tedious work when lunch came, though his disappointing lunch of bread and a piece of lettuce meant his stomach was still hollow even after returning to the garden.

In the evening, before his 'shift' started, Harry heard a tapping on his window. Hedwig was in her cage, having arrived back in the afternoon with a dead mouse, so it couldn't be her. At first he worried that Ron had gotten impatient and sent his owl early, but the handsome bird on his windowsill didn't look like any owl the Weasleys ever owned.

He opened the window and let it inside, taking the envelope as he did so. The bird was an eagle-owl upon closer inspection. Harry hadn't seen one in a very long time; they were quite expensive and usually reserved for those who wanted their every possession to be an indication of social rank.

Harry tore open the envelope after giving the eagle-owl some treats (which it looked disdainfully at) and scanned the letter. It was addressed to _Harry Potter, Chief Watcher of the Stone_, which made him smile.

_I borrowed my gran's owl for this because it's important._

Neville's handwriting was unmistakeable. Harry had helped him study more than enough to recognise it.

_It's about my wand – my Dad's wand, really. I remember in one of our duelling classes, you and Hermione asked about it, and from the way you acted you probably already knew something about why I didn't want to get a new wand._

_Well, I've been thinking a lot, and I guess I didn't want to admit that my wand was holding me back in the duels. It's sorta complicated. But Mum and Dad wouldn't want me to limit myself like that, even if it is for them. So I've decided, if you really think I should, I'll ask my gran if I can get my own wand._

_I hope you're having a good summer, anyway. It was good to see you for a bit at the Burrow, and I can't wait to see everyone again soon._

_Thanks,_

_Neville Longbottom_

_Watcher of the Stone_

Harry immediately grabbed a bit of parchment from his trunk and started writing.

_To Neville Longbottom, Watcher of the Stone and Master Duellist-In-Training,_

_You're right in thinking that Hermione and I knew about what happened to your parents. I'm sorry, but we couldn't help finding out when we were studying the First Wizarding War. They are heroes._

_This is something we have in common, so if you ever need to chat to someone who understands, I'm always here mate. I won't pretend I'm not holding onto my own bits of the past. You saw how I lost control when I saw Voldemort in the Stone chamber. It may have worked out alright, but it was still a moment of weakness for me._

_So I think we both might need to leave sentimentality behind if this is the path we're going down. We can't avenge them if we're holding ourselves back._

_I'll buy you a new wand when we all go to Diagon Alley. If I'm just buying Ron one he'll feel awkward about it, you know he feels bad about money and stuff. As if we'd care about that after everything that happened last year!_

_We'll be training harder than ever this year, so be ready for a workout. If Voldemort tries anything, he'll have to get through us._

_See you soon,_

_Harry Potter_

_Co-Chief Watcher of the Stone_

He folded it up and the eagle-owl impatiently took it from him and leapt out the window in a rush of feathers. Harry was glad he hadn't needed to convince Neville to give up the wand. It seemed this Neville was more thoughtful and introspective than before, possibly because of the added confidence their friendship gave him.

_Or maybe,_ he thought, _Neville was always this introspective, but we just didn't notice._

It was entirely possible. Neville was already quite different from his bumbling, clumsy first iteration. Harry looked forward to seeing what he was capable of in the next couple of months. Training was going to intensify so that the 'advance class' could contribute to any anti-Voldemort efforts within the castle. He and Hermione would need to handle anything too big, but there was no sense letting good fighters and willing friends just sit around.

Harry realised he was meant to be at the Hollow by now, and hurriedly pulled his jacket on and ran outside. At the Hollow, as usual, Hermione was already there, studying the last remaining maps: Yaxley, the Carrows, and Jugson.

"I want something special tonight, Harry," she said as he approached. "Ron's owl could arrive any day now, and we still have these three to take care of."

"Something special?"

"All of them. Tonight." She pointed at Jugson's map. "He's there right now, marketing his illegal potions to his clients in the chapel." Her finger drifted to Yaxley's map. "Yaxley's all alone. His house-elf is sleeping in the basement, while he lounges in the third floor living room. He'd never even see it coming." Finally, she drew attention to the Carrows. "They're sharing a bedroom right now. We could move on them before they can even reach for their wands."

"Are you sure you're not being too hasty?" Harry rubbed his forehead. This was a strange role reversal.

"Maybe I am, but we _need_ to take these people down before we go back to Hogwarts. By the time we get another chance, they might have realised Death Eaters are being targeted and fled their homes. How do you propose we track them then?"

Harry opened his mouth to argue for patience, but all that came out was a sigh. Why be patient? They had the maps, they had the experience and knowledge to get past any protection they could possibly find. If the situation was reversed, the Death Eaters certainly wouldn't hold back.

"Why not?" he said aloud. "But we're doing something different with these ones."

"What do you have in mind?"

"No sneaking. Once we're through the protection, we go as hard as we can. I'm tired of skulking around."

Hermione considered it. "I believe that's known as shock-and-awe. Very well, no more holding back."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**There's no way this can possibly go wrong.**


	10. Chapter 9: Scabbers

**Chapter 9: Scabbers**

The chapel stood atop a hill overlooking a nearby village. A thick wall of brambles and dead trees surrounded the graveyard beside it. The building itself was run-down and had missing windows through which the freezing night wind howled. Harry held his camouflaged jacket close, but it did little against the cold. Hermione was beside him, though from his perspective she was just a subtle shape against the twigs that occasionally emitted little puffs of mist.

According to the map, Jugson was walking between four other people, possibly explaining his wares and answering questions. There was no magical protection around the chapel, and indeed, it would be almost impossible for a random Ministry worker to stumble across such a meeting. The only reason Malfoy knew about it was because he had one of Jugson's clients in his pocket.

Harry and Hermione rose to a low crouch and moved forwards. The wind was so loud that they didn't have to worry about their footsteps. Light flickered from one of the broken windows, and as they drew closer, shadows began to play across the frame.

They pressed against the outer wall of the chapel, listening intently.

"The finest, I assure you!" said a pompous voice.

"Your 'finest' nearly blew up in my face two months ago. I want a guarantee, Jugson," growled another man.

"Then you shall have one! I personally vouch for the authenticity of my potions, after all, if I couldn't be trusted to make them right, why would anyone keep buying from me?" Jugson sounded like a con-man if Harry had ever heard one.

The customers continued to argue and Harry readied his wand. _How should we do this?_

_We don't know enough about the clients to sentence them to death, _replied Hermione. _Unfortunately, shock-and-awe might not be the best idea._

_Wait, I'll do this._ Harry slowly poked his head over the windowsill and looked inside the chapel. There were two large tables in the centre of the room holding all manner of foul-looking potions. Three men silently browsed the selection, while the fourth continued to argue with Jugson.

"Malfunctions can be caused by the tiniest things, sir, even the tiniest contaminant may have caused the issues you experienced," said the Death Eater with a smile. His face was narrow and he had a very toothy grin. His blonde hair was matted to his skull with grease.

"I didn't let anything contaminate it! I kept the stopper on until the moment I needed it!"

Harry very slowly extended his wand through the window, pointing across the room at Jugson.

"Ah, well, there is such a thing as letting a potion _breathe_, I daresay that may have been the cause of your distress."

"My distress? My bloody wife was laughing at me like a circus freak!"

Harry breathed deeply to steady his hand. _Reducto._

Jugson's entire upper half _burst_ in a star-shaped explosion that sent tiny pieces of him splattering across the entire interior of the church. The other men roared in surprised, stumbling back and slipping on the suddenly wet floor. Jugson's legs flopped to the ground.

Harry withdrew before the blood could reach him, and Hermione's hand suddenly gripped his shoulder.

In a moment, they were crouching in the Hollow.

"That was… effective," admitted Hermione.

Harry smiled grimly. "Sometimes the best solution is the simplest." He exchanged the chapel map for Yaxley's house. "No sense waiting when there's work to be done. One down."

Outside Yaxley's tall, foreboding home, Harry began delving immediately, barely noticing when Hermione refreshed their Disillusionment Charms. His blood was running hot after Jugson, and he was eager to charge in and take Yaxley down. It was only the memory of what happened last time he was so reckless that kept him from cutting the delving short.

After a couple of minutes, he had pushed his delving right up against the house. There were a couple of protective spells on the walls themselves, very subtle detection ones that would alert Yaxley if anyone attempted to break through them. Harry and Hermione could get around them, but it would take more time than they were willing to spend.

The Yaxley family had clearly been a bit more cautious than the Malfoys, most likely because they weren't as powerful and might still be targeted by ambitious thieves. As far as Harry knew, the only family that matched the Malfoys was the Lestranges, and they were out of the picture too.

Hermione took some calming breaths before breaking through the protective spells with brute force. Yaxley would have definitely felt it. They bolted for the front door, wands out and ready. Harry flicked his to the left, conjuring a set of knives that spun away into the darkness, curving around the building. A moment later, he heard some windows smash as the knives impacted the house, hopefully distracting Yaxley.

As they got close to the door, Harry looked up at one of the second floor windows and noticed a gargoyle looking down at the yard. _Go in the front and get the house elf to safety,_ he thought, hoping Hermione was listening, before whipping his wand at the gargoyle. _Carpe Retractum!_ A rope of golden light connected his wand to the gargoyle, and a second later he was yanked into the air towards the window. _Silencio, Reducto!_

The window and surrounding wall silently exploded inwards, and Harry followed half a second later, landing amidst the dust and rubble and skidding to a halt. The hallway was dark, but he could see intricately carved tables and bookshelves lining the walls, along with a tapestry that flowed from room to room.

Harry silenced his footsteps and ran down the hall. He checked the map, spotting Yaxley's dot in the living room above a bedroom on Harry's floor. Harry ducked into the bedroom in question and pointed his wand at the roof. "_Torrens Ignitus_!" he muttered forcefully. This particular spell had been a result of their research on the firestorms. It had been a dead end, but he'd always wanted to find a use for it. Like many of the older spells, the nonverbal version didn't pack as much punch, and Harry was in no mood for fooling around.

Cracks shot across the roof like spider webs, and from within them came a deep, red heat. Harry ducked out of the room and made for the nearest stairwell. The crunching sound of Yaxley's top-floor living room collapsing into a blindingly hot pool of lava reverberated through the house, making Harry trip over as he reached the highest floor.

A curse raked the side of the corridor, shredding part of the tapestry. Harry looked up to see Yaxley in his evening clothes, hard face contorted in fury. He must have only just gotten out of the living room in time. "You came for Malfoy and now you want me, do you?" he roared, sending another curse that forced Harry to dive behind a polished cabinet. "I won't go down like that milksop, fool!"

The cabinet was thrown aside, but Harry was on his feet again and blocked the next curse with a shield. Yaxley moved quickly for a man his age, ducking under his rebounding curse and sending a Killing Curse down the corridor. The shield shattered, but Harry was no longer behind it, having slipped into a room on the left. With Yaxley's approximate position on the other side of the wall in his mind, Harry slashed his wand horizontally. The Cutting Charm ripped through the wall and the shattering of glass confirmed it had broken the outer wall as well.

Harry finally noticed the room he was in – a trophy room with old suits of armour and ornate shelves full of rare artefacts and the heads of strange creatures. Yaxley staggered into the room, tiny shards of glass sticking out of his face. "We know what you're doing! Malfoy, Nott, Gibbon, Rowle!" The Death Eater jerked his wand at a suit of armour and it flew towards Harry, sword outstretched.

Harry turned it to ragged shrapnel before it could reach him. _Oppugno!_ The pieces of metal shot back towards Yaxley. Before they could sink into his skull, they were diverted into the wall with a series of _thunks._ "You're a short one, aren't you? Disillusionment doesn't work so well while running around, you little ant!" Yaxley growled, shooting a jet of colourless fire from the end of his wand and bathing the room in eerie black-and-white.

_Defodio, Locomotor Lignum!_ Harry raised his wand in a vertical arc, and a section of the wooden floor in front of him ruptured and rose to block the flames. There was a loud _bang_ from somewhere lower in the house.

"So there's more of you, is there?" Yaxley called from around the mass of splintered, flaming wood hovering in the centre of the room. "We'll find you! No matter how many of you there are, we know what to look for now!"

"_Torrens Ignitus!"_ Harry hissed, and the spaces within the makeshift barrier glowed like hot iron as lava filled them. _Reducto!_ The shards of wood soaked in lava exploded towards Yaxley, ripping through the weakened walls until the blackened horizon was visible. Cursing, Harry checked the map. Yaxley's dot was gone, as was the house-elf's. Hermione was unmoving in the basement.

Harry Apparated to the front door and followed the path she would have taken to get to the elf. Hermione was lying on the ground in the middle of the basement beside a cupboard. He could only see her by checking the map, she was so still. He picked her up and Apparated back to the Hollow.

After setting Hermione down on the floor, Harry _enervated_ her and watched worriedly as she regained awareness.

"Harry?" she mumbled.

"I'm here. I just got you out of Yaxley's basement." Harry suddenly felt a searing spike of heat on his shoulder. A tiny, stray chip of wood with a drop of lava on it had caught on his jacket and burned through to his shoulder. He ripped off his clothes hurriedly as the pain sharpened. Their Disillusionment Charms were dispelled by Hermione as she sat up and noticed the problem.

"Come here, quickly!" she said.

Harry gritted his teeth and dropped to his knees beside her. Tears of pain spilled from his eyes as he watched the flesh on his shoulder warp and burn. Hermione's healing spells took the pain first, and he sucked in great mouthfuls of air in relief. The bit of wood and lava were banished instantly, but it was some time before Hermione removed her wand with a sigh.

"It's not as bad as it first looked. The lava didn't have time to melt past your skin. But, well, it _is_ lava, and there was some muscular damage from the intense heat nonetheless. I've regrown the bit of muscle that was ruined, but it's going to be quite tender for a while," she said.

Harry inspected the mass of blisters and found that they reached as far as his elbow, neck, and chest. "I got careless near the end. It's easy to forget how dangerous lava is when you can make it out of nothing," he admitted quietly. "Are these blisters permanent?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I can remove those. They were just from the radiant heat, not the lava itself. We don't have any dittany though, so that scar on your shoulder will be there forever. What _happened_ back there, Harry?"

"Yaxley was expecting an attack. How did you get stunned?"

"I went down to stun the house-elf and Apparate her outside just in case you brought the house down, but then the whole building was rocked by an explosion or something – was that you? It threw my aim off at the last second and my stunner missed. You know how powerful elf magic can be; before I could do anything else I was knocked out."

"It was me. I went to the room below Yaxley's living room – the place he was relaxing – and turned the roof to lava. I'd hoped it would catch him completely by surprise, even with the boundary spells alerting him. He managed to survive and we duelled for a bit until we heard something downstairs. He figured there were more of us and might have Disapparated. I'm not sure if I got him in time."

"We can't assume that you did." Hermione rubbed her temples. "That went terribly. I can't believe I let myself get stunned by a house-elf."

"You said it yourself, elf magic is powerful." Harry shook his head angrily. "We can't go after the Carrows now. If Yaxley escaped, he's probably warned any other Death Eaters he was in contact with. Damn it, they know! He was shouting about Malfoy, Nott, Gibbon, and Rowle. We should have realised they'd put two and two together."

"They were bound to catch on eventually. We just underestimated the amount of information that flowed between them."

"What was the loud bang that distracted Yaxley?" Harry asked as Hermione got to work on his blisters.

"It must have been the house-elf Disapparating – come to think of it, I remember noticing a small filing cabinet in the basement that looked very out of place…"

"Yaxley must have told the elf to take the cabinet with him in the event of an intruder, just in case he himself was killed or incapacitated. Taking the cabinet would have made more noise than just a simple Apparition."

Hermione gasped. "Of course! It must have been full of Yaxley's own dirty ledgers – possibly even the locations of more Death Eaters." She lowered her wand from Harry's blister-free torso. There was a twisted white scar where the lava had touched him directly. "We went into this completely blind. I should have considered the possibility that they would catch on to our goals."

"Maybe, but I'm the one who failed to bring down Yaxley. I had him in a duel! There should have been no contest."

"It's been over a year since you've had a real duel, Harry. You were bound to be a little rusty. And Yaxley did manage to draw with Professor Flitwick once, too, so he's not exactly a pushover." She held up a finger. "_And_ you likely would have killed him with that last spell if he hadn't decided to retreat at that moment. We just need to accept that we were under-prepared and didn't adapt to the situation effectively."

Harry sighed. "Shock-and-awe. I was foolish to try something like that. I just… I wanted to _engage_ rather than keep sneaking around."

"I'm as much to blame as you are, Harry. I let your impatience bleed into my own mind when I should have remained rational."

"I didn't realise that could happen," Harry said softly. "I thought you just read my thoughts and memories." Hermione was suddenly quiet. "You can feel what I feel?"

"Well… in a way, yes. Remember when you fought Quirrell? I told you I felt your pain."

"Yeah, but I thought you just meant empathy or seeing painful thoughts, not feeling the pain itself."

"It doesn't matter. Don't turn this into a big deal. It's over, and now we have to deal with the consequences."

Harry flexed his left arm, wincing at the tenderness. "We'll have to cease operations for now. I'll keep my schedule going until Ron's owl arrives, but you might as well stay home at night."

Hermione nodded mutely as she repaired his shirt and jacket and helped him dress. "I'm going to take the diary and keep it in my trunk," she said, surprising Harry.

"Er, why? Isn't it safer here?"

"Yes, but I need it for something. When we go to Diagon Alley, I'll explain it in more detail."

"You're not going to give it to Ginny, are you? If you're going to try and recreate the events from our second year –"

"I'm not," she said hurriedly. "Definitely not. I just have some concerns about how certain things are going to play out this year, so I'm making preparations."

"I'd like to know a bit more beforehand," Harry said warningly.

Hermione smiled and patted his cheek. "I'll see you at the Burrow in a couple of days. I hope you like your birthday present." She Disapparated without disturbing the air.

* * *

><p>On his birthday morning, after trudging back to the Dursley's following a night spent at the Hollow, Harry found three impatient owls waiting on his window sill. They were being very quiet, fortunately, so Vernon hadn't been woken up in a rage. Harry recognised the Weasley's Errol and Neville's grandmother's eagle-owl, and decided the third and fourth owls were public-use ones that Hermione and Hagrid had hired.<p>

All three of them had envelopes and packages that Harry took great pleasure in opening. Hagrid and Ron had sent cakes, one of which was decidedly boulder-like in nature, as well as short letters wishing him a happy birthday. Ron's letter included a notification that his father would be collecting Harry from Privet Drive the following morning. Apparently, Hermione had been in contact with the Weasleys, explaining how Floo powder might frighten the Dursleys and how simple Apparition would be much simpler. She'd sent them street maps with directions and a postcard of a heritage-listed building a few blocks away so that Mr Weasley would have something to focus on when Apparating. Harry was concerned about the man's ability to navigate with a Muggle map, but had faith it would work itself out somehow.

Neville's letter was next. It was on fine parchment like last time, so he was probably using his gran's stationery. Once again, it was formally addressed to _Harry Potter, Co-Chief Watcher of the Stone._

_Harry,_

_I would've used a normal owl and parchment, but once gran realised who I was writing to, she insisted that I use this stuff. _

_Thanks for what you said about my parents being heroes. I think yours are too. I still don't like talking about it much, but thanks for your offer to listen._

_You're right about Ron and the wands. I guess the three of us will have to go to Ollivander's soon._

_By the way, my gran found out about the rings and everything that happened with the Stone. I think she knew something big had happened at school and the official story from Dumbledore only covered half of it, so she started pressuring me until I told her. I thought she would take the ring away and go nuts at me for knowingly getting into trouble, but she looked prouder than I'd ever seen her. She told me I did my parents proud and that I should stand by you whatever it takes. It was mental (in a good way)._

_Anyway sorry for talking about myself when it's your birthday. Mine was the day before yours, so I guess we kinda share that too. I'll give you your present in person once we're at the Burrow, I was worried your uncle might confiscate any packages you get. Don't worry about getting a present for me, I know you can't do much while you're stuck there._

_See you soon,_

_Neville Longbottom_

_Watcher of the Stone_

Harry smiled as he put down the letter. Augusta Longbottom's reaction was unexpected, but promising. The extra support she was giving Neville would make him more confident, eliminating many of the shortcomings he'd suffered from the first time. Harry had the distinct feeling Neville's grades were going to improve throughout the year.

Hermione's package was last, and contained a thin, black leotard. "You must be joking," he said under his breath. A little note was bundled with the skin-tight fabric that said '_For Dancing~'_. There was a cheeky swirl at the end that told him she knew very well what his reaction would be. He stuffed it in his trunk, far below his school books.

Her actual letter was very short since they saw each other so regularly, there wasn't much they could catch up on. Harry read a few lines before hastily adding it to his collection of letters, his cheeks burning. It was clearly part of the same ruse Hermione was using on her notebooks, where one layer of subtle protection charms hid a vapid, girly diary full of fluff, which in turn concealed a second layer of charms that hid the real, coded notes.

Suddenly curious, Harry pulled the letter out again and drew his wand. After a few minutes of delving, he found a little pocket of magical protection and broke through it. The sickening lovey-dovey writing and love hearts were suddenly replaced by a single, much more modest line.

_If you're reading this, then you've been paying attention and are entitled to redeem this note for one (1) smooch at midnight on your birthday._

Harry chuckled and carefully tucked the letter away. He fully intended to redeem it.

While it was still early, he decided to do a little work. He tossed some owl snacks to the hungry messengers and pulled his invisibility cloak on. Disillusionment wouldn't be enough for this one.

He Apparated north to a town bordered by a slow river. It was from a dim memory of the Horcrux hunt, so he was certain there was nothing linking him to this place.

On the main road, he found a supermarket and slipped inside. A couple of early workers were stacking shelves and setting up promotions, but he stayed out of their way.

_Now, let's see… I've been 'working' for four or five weeks, and I told the Dursleys I get paid three pounds a night. They haven't questioned the fact that the man I work for apparently never has days off, so I need to include weekends. That means I've earned one-hundred and five pounds this month._

Harry double-checked his calculations before silently opening a register with a tap of his wand. It was empty. The cashiers hadn't arrived to stock them yet. He closed the register and snuck over to the staff area.

In one of the offices, a large safe sat against the wall. There was nobody around, so he opened it up. Happily, he found several neat stacks of bills and bags of coins sitting there. He hesitated. _If I get paid by the night, I should have a lot of coins. But that's inconvenient. I'll say that he gives me the money once a week, which means every week I'd get twenty-one pounds, and I'll need around five lots._ Harry felt a weird, uncomfortable déjà vu that brought to mind very distant memories of Muggle school before Hogwarts. It struck him how little he'd had to use maths in the wizarding world.

With the money tucked away, Harry closed and locked the safe before Disapparating back to his bedroom.

Just as he arrived, someone pounded on the door. "Get up, boy!" growled Uncle Vernon. "No sleeping in today, you little ingrate!"

Harry sighed and put his cloak away. The money was still in his pockets as he went downstairs and started frying some bacon. Vernon snorted loudly as he read the paper, muttering a running commentary on every article his beady eyes focused on.

Petunia came down soon after, ordering Harry to butter some toast for her. Dudley, of course, was allowed to sleep in as long as he wanted. After breakfast, just before Vernon left for work, and as Petunia was skimming the gossip columns, Harry approached the table and dumped the money in front of them.

They both looked too shocked to form a response, so he pushed onwards. "This is every cent I've earned since I started working," said Harry, watching their eyes count the money. "You always call me a freeloader, so here's my contribution to the house." With that, Harry cleared the table and started doing the dishes.

"Good," said Uncle Vernon gruffly, but no amount of gruffness could disguise his surprise. "About time you started paying us back."

He soon left for work, and by the time Harry was finished cleaning, the money had vanished. Petunia must have been too off-guard to remember to force him to do more chores, so Harry was able to escape to his room before Dudley woke up.

The rest of the day passed rather peacefully. Dudley ended up going to a friend's house, and Petunia went shopping for a few hours, so Harry was able to have a nice lunch and relax on the couch until he heard her return.

In the evening, after dinner, Harry joined the Dursleys on the couch. He hadn't done so since he got his 'job', and he could tell the Dursleys had noticed the abnormality. During an advertisement break, Harry took a deep breath.

"A friend of mine sent me a letter. He's invited me to spend the rest of the holidays with his family. His dad will be here sometime tomorrow to pick me up," he said.

"That's what the money was about then, was it?" snapped Vernon. "Buttering us up so we'll let one of those other freaks come here, huh?"

"No. I could have kept the money, and I'd still get picked up tomorrow," Harry replied evenly.

"You're not going anywhere without our say-so, understand?"

"Why on earth would you want me to stay here for another month? Today, I gave you a hundred pounds and offered to disappear for an entire year. I thought this would be like an early Christmas for you."

Vernon's mouth worked soundlessly. Talking back was one thing, but talking back with logic seemed a bit too much for him to handle.

Petunia stepped in. "How is this person going to pick you up?" she asked warily.

"He's going to come to the door, I'll bring my trunk down, and then we'll walk away and you won't hear from either of us for a year."

Harry could see the gears churning in their minds. Dudley was staring at the television, but Harry had the distinct feeling he was listening raptly.

"No noise. No weird things. When he gets here, you leave with him within the minute, alright?" said Vernon in a low voice.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," said Harry.

After that, he retired to his bedroom feeling pretty satisfied. He let Hedwig out for some night-time hunting and silenced his room before Apparating to the Hollow.

"It's not midnight yet," teased Hermione, standing up from her desk. She was wearing a black leotard like the one she bought Harry. "And you're not even dressed for the occasion."

Harry shook his head, moving to kiss her, but she slipped away. "Come on, I'm not wearing that," he complained.

"You'll like it, trust me. The freedom of movement makes dancing so much more fun."

"Hermione, it's a leotard. Not even male dancing tights, an actual leotard!"

"At this age, it doesn't make much of a difference. You have to wear it, Harry. It's part of the deal."

"It wasn't written on your letter."

"Wasn't it?"

Harry glared at her and Apparated back to his bedroom. After pulling her letter out (being a lot rougher than he had been before) he delved strongly into it. It was still painstaking, but beneath the shattered first layer of disguise, there was another. He broke through and watched more words appear before his eyes.

_And if you're reading _this_, you're being very diligent and are entitled to a second smooch. Both offers become null and void if you do not wear your birthday present._

Back at the Hollow, he crumpled the paper and threw it at a giggling Hermione before he got changed.

Much to his irritation, his movements became smoother and more precise under the tight-fitting fabric, and he was eventually forced to admit that dancing was far easier this way.

They were panting when they finally stopped and dropped into their chairs, and Harry wiped sweat from his forehead. "A birthday dance is one thing," he said, sucking in air, "But if you think I'm going to wear this at Hogwarts where anyone can see me, you're out of your mind."

Hermione laughed, though it turned into a yawn midway. "I think it's midnight," she said casually.

Harry walked over to her on sore legs and bent down to peck her lips. She rose to meet him, and then some. When he felt her mouth open and her tongue brush against his lips, he hurriedly pulled away.

"Hm?" she looked at him questioningly.

"Er, let's not forget how old these bodies are. We shouldn't act too mature in that regard, even in private."

Hermione sighed, but she was smirking. "Very well. In your professional opinion, what age do you have to be in order for snogging to appropriate?"

"I don't know," said Harry, well aware he was being mocked, "But it definitely isn't twelve."

"I'll be thirteen in two months." Her eyes twinkled with mirth.

"It isn't thirteen either!" Harry growled. "I don't know what the appropriate age is! How old were you when you had your first kiss?"

"Fifteen."

"Krum, right?" She nodded. "Well I was sixteen when I kissed Cho. I think we should wait until at least fifteen before we start snogging constantly." He folded his arms resolutely.

Rather than act indignant as he expected, Hermione chuckled. "A hundred pounds says you'll change your mind by the end of the year."

"You don't have a hundred pounds," Harry countered.

"Neither did you. There are a lot of supermarkets in this country."

"Fine. I'll take that bet. But I'm telling you, it's not going to happen until we're fifteen."

"And I'm telling you to _relax_, Harry. Nobody is going to figure out our master plan by watching us snog."

"That's not what I was implying. It just feels wrong to act like adults while we're still in young bodies."

"That's a bit hypocritical." Hermione lifted her chin in a very know-it-all way. "You have no problem killing people in your young body, but when it comes to something as innocent as a make-out session, it feels 'wrong'. That would imply that careful, calculated homicide is somehow morally superior to kissing me."

Harry shut his mouth before he could say anything else. She had a point, and worse, it was a point that he shouldn't have needed to have spelled out for him. "Thank you for the dance," he said, smothering his irritation.

"You're welcome."

"I'll see you at the Burrow." _If Mr Weasley actually finds me._

* * *

><p>Mr Weasley didn't arrive until the afternoon. His balding hair was a little windswept, but he looked delighted by his adventure in the streets. Harry had his trunk and Hedwig's cage ready and spared no more than half a second to inform the Dursleys that he was leaving. Mr Weasley was eager to meet them, but Harry managed to talk him out of it, making up some infectious disease they had.<p>

"You're looking fit and proper, Harry my boy!" Mr Weasley said cheerfully as they walked down the street. A neighbour who was trimming her rose bush watched them go past with narrowed eyes. "A bit skinny, but Molly will fix that up quickly. I must say, it was a big surprise to see you a few weeks ago. Wherever did you find a fireplace connected to the Floo network around here?"

Harry bit his tongue. He should have been more prepared for such a question. "I deduced that my neighbour, Mrs Figg, was a friend of Dumbledore's, and would likely have a working fireplace so she can send quick messages." Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "It seemed a bit unlikely that Dumbledore would just leave me alone in Privet Drive considering the danger I was in from Voldemort's followers. Granted, I wouldn't exactly call Mrs Figg a protector, but then I suspect Dumbledore also placed other protections on this place."

Mr Weasley was giving him a curious look. "I see Ron wasn't kidding when he said you were sharp." Suddenly he laughed. "But this does explain why Ron's been studying so hard in the holidays. He must be trying to keep up."

"Ron's been studying?" That was unexpected. Ron had cared very little about schoolwork the first time around.

"Yep, ever since the incident with the rings."

"Do you know what he's studying?"

"A book from the nearest wizarding library. First time in his life he'd ever asked us to take him there."

"Can you remember the title of the book?" Harry pressed patiently. Hermione would be interested in this deviation.

Mr Weasley thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Afraid not. I haven't had a lot of time to ask him about it, what with work being so hectic lately." They reached the park a few blocks from the Dursleys. "Er," said Mr Weasley, looking around, "This isn't the way I came. I suppose it doesn't matter, we just need a little nook we can duck into so I can Apparate us back to the Burrow."

"Oh, there's an alley nearby," said Harry, and he lead Mr Weasley over to the same place he left for 'work' every night. "Will this do?"

"Perfect!" Mr Weasley clapped his hands together. "Now, I don't believe you've ever Apparated before, have you?"

"No, I haven't," Harry lied.

"Well, it can be a bit rough on your first time. I'd have much preferred to come get you through the fireplace – I have a friend at the Ministry who could have helped us out – but that girlfriend of yours was very insistent in her letters. I'm sure I could've just explained everything to your aunt and uncle… but oh well. Now, grab my arm tightly and don't let go. Better use both hands." Harry did as instructed, pretending to brace himself. "Right – here we go!"

A moment later, they stood on the path leading up to the Burrow, sans Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage. "How are you feeling, Harry?" asked Mr Weasley. "It's not very pleasant, is it? That's why most people prefer Floo powder."

"I'm fine," said Harry, refusing a bucket that Mr Weasley conjured. "Where is my trunk? And Hedwig?"

"I've already sent them up to Ron's room. You'll be sharing with him, it's just below the attic."

"Thanks for coming to get me, Mr Weasley." Harry smiled as they approached the towering mismatched house.

"Not a problem, Harry. The other kids are all here, you're the last to arrive." He chuckled. "Molly's beside herself at the thought of feeding three more mouths. All of you are far too thin in her eyes."

Inside the Burrow, there was plenty of laughing and muffled thumps coming from upstairs, while Mrs Weasley clanked around in the kitchen and talked loudly with someone.

"But Mum, I can't share with _her!"_ squeaked Ginny. "She's going out with Harry! Fred and George will probably tell her that I have a crush on him, and then she'll tease me!"

"We've both spoken to Hermione, dear, and I don't believe she's the type to tease anyone about anything," Mrs Weasley replied patiently. "Honestly, you've spent the last month skipping around the house excitedly, waiting for him to get here. Now the day has come, and you're complaining about sharing your room!" There was a loud _clang_ as Mrs Weasley deposited something on the counter, probably a large pot.

Mr Weasley pushed past Harry and gave him a wink before entering the kitchen. "We're back! Took a little longer to find the place, but I got to ask a Muggle Auror for directions! He seemed a bit put off when I asked him what that big stick on his belt was for, though."

"I think they're called policemen, dear," replied Mrs Weasley.

Harry strode into the kitchen just in time to see a red blur leave through the other doorway. "Er, hello Mrs Weasley," he said, listening to Ginny's loud footsteps on the stairs.

"Harry! Oh, I've been hoping for a chance to fatten you up a bit – look at you, you're skin and bones!"

"He's got a strong stomach, so that can't be why," said Mr Weasley. "First time Apparating and he didn't even blink!"

Harry grinned modestly. "Thanks for letting me come here. Are Neville and Hermione here already?"

"It's no bother at all, dear, and yes they are. You can go up to say hello if you like, and I'll bring some snacks up soon." Mrs Weasley was practically glowing as she moved about the kitchen. It seemed taking care of children was practically a passion with her, and it showed. Harry supposed that considering how many Weasleys there were, that was a bit obvious.

Harry climbed the stairs quickly enough to spot an alarmed Ginny as she dove inside her room and closed the door, having probably eavesdropped on the conversation. Her shyness was going to be a problem if they wanted to bring her into the advanced class this year. Harry was hesitant about it since she was only a first year and had no experience yet. Granted, Ron and Neville had done remarkably well, but they'd had motivation and one-on-one instruction from him and Hermione. It was hard to _not_ improve under those conditions.

"Are you just gonna stand there all day?" said Ron from further up the stairs. Neville and Hermione were behind him, grinning.

"It was just – your sister, she…" Harry didn't bother going on, happy as he was to see his friends.

"Oh yeah, that's just Ginny. She's got a big crush on you," Ron added casually, waving Harry up. There was a muffled shriek from Ginny's room.

"Oh. That's nice," replied Harry. He raced up the stairs and followed the others into Ron's room at the top, where he was immediately slam-hugged by Hermione.

"It's good to see you!" she said happily, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay to chat a few weeks ago, I didn't want my parents to notice my absence."

"It's fine," Harry laughed. _Scabbers tonight_, he thought.

_Too fast, _Hermione replied._ We should at least wait a couple of days before –_

_Tonight,_ he thought firmly.

Someone coughed, and Harry realised they'd been staring at each other for too long. "Hey guys," he said awkwardly. Neville and Ron were grinning at him, probably enjoying his discomfort. "Er, where's everyone sleeping?"

"I'm sharing with Ginny," said Hermione.

"You and Neville are sharing with me," said Ron, shrugging uncomfortably. "It'll be a bit squished, but…"

"Anything's better than the Dursleys, trust me." Harry looked around at his trunk and the Chudley Cannons posters, covertly spotting Scabbers in a cage on Ron's desk. The little rat was chewing on something while watching the visitors. Harry wondered what the bastard was thinking.

_Not a lot, _came Hermione's voice. _He mainly wants to get more food. When you entered the room, he vaguely remembered selling out your parents to Voldemort and faking his death, but it was with a sense of satisfaction about how things had turned out. I think he actually likes living as a rat._

Harry fought to keep his disgust from showing on his face. "Apparating here with your dad felt really weird," he said instead.

"You Apparated?" said Neville excitedly. "What was it like?"

"Let's just say I can see why most people use Floo powder."

"Oh yeah, I've got your birthday present, Harry." Neville tossed a floppy package over and Harry tore it open. "Duelling bracers. You strap them on your forearm, so you can wear them even at school," explained Neville. "There's a little sheath for your wand that makes it slide into your hand when you need it."

"This is brilliant, Neville!" Harry exclaimed as inspected the bracers. They looked to be some sort of hard leather made from an unknown creature's skin. There was a little carving around the edges, but most of it was smooth. He strapped them on and slid his wand into the sheath. As soon as he thought about drawing it again, his wand shot straight into his hand. "I hope it didn't cost too much."

"It's a gift, Harry, just enjoy it," sniffed Hermione.

"What did you get him?" asked Ron.

She blushed. "So what Quidditch team is that, Ron?" she said quickly.

The rest of the evening was spent mucking around in Ron's room and outside while scoffing down snacks provided by Mrs Weasley. Harry was able to lose himself in the fun for a time, but when dinner arrived, he was back to thinking of ways to reveal Pettigrew. It was a shame to not be able to relax and enjoy seeing his mates again, but Sirius was sitting in a cell at that very moment, somehow summoning the strength to remain sane in the hopes of getting revenge on Pettigrew. Harry couldn't let him down.

The dinner table was a ruckus of noise and overlapping conversations, and Harry was pleased to see Hermione trying to befriend Ginny, even if it wasn't going very well.

"I love your hair. I think you'll look very striking when you're an adult," said Hermione kindly.

"It's too straight," Ginny mumbled, picking at her food and looking everywhere but across the table at Harry.

"Really? I wish mine was more like yours."

Ginny didn't reply, sinking slightly in her chair. Hermione caught Harry's eye and shrugged helplessly.

At the other end of the table, Mr Weasley was talking to Mrs Weasley and Percy about Ministry work, and Harry couldn't help but listen in.

"Yorkson couldn't tell me much, of course, but he let slip that Yaxley won't meet with anyone in person and is staying at a different place every night. Whatever really happened, he's spooked," said Mr Weasley in a low voice.

"From what you've told me about him, I find that hard to believe," said Mrs Weasley worriedly.

Percy was listening with rapturous attention. "Are the Aurors making any progress?" he asked.

Mr Weasley shook his head. "The whole department is being even more tight-lipped than usual, so I would guess the investigation isn't going well. If they had any leads or suspects, they'd want everyone to know. With so many of the old families involved, they'll be under a lot of pressure to get results."

"It's strange to think Malfoy won't ever trouble us again."

Harry pretended to choke a little on some broccoli. "Sorry, did you say Malfoy?" he asked down the table.

"Oh yes, you wouldn't have heard." Mr Weasley looked quite unsure as to how to deliver the news. "You remember Lucius Malfoy?" Harry nodded. "Well… he was found dead in his manor a few weeks ago, along with another man like him."

"Oh." Harry frowned. "Uh, I can't say I ever liked the man, but I suppose that's sad for his family." He grimaced and picked up his glass of water. "Maybe I'd best not say anything at all."

Mr Weasley nodded in understanding. "I said the same when I heard. Best not to speak ill of the dead."

"Harry, Dad," Ron said suddenly, turning away from a discussion with Neville and the twins. "Are eagle-owls part eagle, or just a different breed? Fred and George think they're eagles that have been transfigured into owls, but Neville's gran has one and he says differently."

"They're a breed of owl," Mr Weasley said patiently. "Otherwise we would have transfigured Scabbers into an owl too. Can always use one more." Mrs Weasley sighed.

"We could still try it, Dad," said George hopefully.

"But then he'd have to break his eleven-year streak of uselessness," reminded Fred.

"Eleven years? Is he a magical rat?" Harry asked dubiously, pouncing on the opportunity.

"Nah, just lucky I 'spose." Ron gnawed on a chicken bone.

"That is very unlikely," Hermione said with a frown, having given up on talking to Ginny. "There's a limit to how many times the cells of a living being can divide. If Scabbers isn't magical, then there must be something else about him that's making him live so long."

Harry winced internally. She was being a little too straightforward in his opinion. Ron and the Weasley parents were frowning at Hermione. "Cells?" asked Mr Weasley.

Hermione blushed. "It's a term used in Muggle science. But that's not important," she added before Mr Weasley could inquire further, "I'm just saying that Scabbers is extremely odd." She dug into some mashed potato, sheepish under the family's gaze.

_Oh, what the hell._ "Hm," Harry said thoughtfully before the conversation could pick up again, "Hermione, when Professor McGonagall turns into a cat, does she have the same life expectancy as a real one?"

"No, I don't think it works that way. She could live to be an eighty-year-old cat if she wanted to."

The table was quiet now as everyone was listening. Harry hoped Wormtail couldn't hear them all the way from Ron's room. "So if a person could change into a rat…" Harry said slowly, putting his knife and fork down.

"…They could live far longer than their biology would normally allow," finished Hermione.

"What are you saying?" laughed Ron, though it sounded a bit forced. "You think Scabbers is some nutter who can turn into a rat?"

"Do you have a better explanation as to how a common brown rat lived four times longer than it should have?" Harry asked.

"He's just lucky," Ron mumbled.

"Harry," said Mr Weasley, and Harry was pleased to note he sounded serious. "This is a little unbelievable, I have to say. You're not really saying you think the family rat has been an Animagus this whole time?"

Harry shrugged. "If you eliminate the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

_Oh, good one, Harry, _Hermione whispered in his head. He fought the urge to grin at her. During the first six months of Auror training, long ago, Hermione had sent him some classic Muggle books for his birthday. After weeks of exhausting mental fortitude training, they had been exactly what he needed.

Mr Weasley exchanged a look with his wife. "Still…" he said.

"There must be a simple way to check," said Hermione. "We can just go upstairs, find out, and if we're wrong we'll all be laughing about it over dessert. But if we're right… wouldn't you want to know for sure, just in case?"

After a long pause, Mr Weasley nodded slowly. "I suppose it can't hurt. I really don't think anything will happen, but if it makes you both feel better…" He stood up, and Harry followed suit.

Ron was the next to stand. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?" he asked fretfully.

Mr Weasley shook his head. "If I'm right, it probably won't even wake him up. If Harry's right…" He left the rest unsaid as he made for the stairs, Harry right behind him. Unsurprisingly, the entire Weasley family, plus Neville and Hermione, rushed after them. The speculation had tickled everyone's curiosity, it seemed, or perhaps they just wanted to see the little creature paid back for years of chewed shoes and pranks.

In Ron's room, Harry subtly used his new bracer to draw his wand almost imperceptibly while the family's attention was on Scabbers' cage. Only Ginny noticed him, and she hid behind Mrs Weasley when he met her eyes. Mr Weasley slowly approached the cage, wand drawn and raised. He muttered something, and all hell broke loose.

The cage exploded as Scabbers suddenly grew into a short, balding man in tattered clothes. Mrs Weasley shrieked and leapt backwards, falling into Fred, George, and Ginny and sending them sprawling. Ron and Neville let out simultaneous shouts of surprise, while Hermione suddenly had her own wand in her hand.

Wormtail fell off the table where the cage used to be, looking wildly around at everyone, his beady eyes as wide as they could go and his broken lips drawn in fear. Mr Weasley stumbled back a few steps, his wand still outstretched.

"What – who are you?" he asked hoarsely. "What are you doing – you were a rat – _who are you?!_"

Wormtail lunged for Mr Weasley's wand, but was thrown backwards by the force of both Harry's and Hermione's stunners. The table broke from the abuse, and Wormtail lay unconscious amidst splintered wood. Around them, the Chudley Cannons continued to soar.

Harry strode past Mr Weasley, who was frozen in shock, and bent down to check Wormtail's pulse just in case. "He's alive."

"What the _fuck_," said Ron, his face white and his legs unsteady. Neville had an arm around his shoulder.

"Don't you dare use such inappropriate language, Ronald Weasley," Mrs Weasley said weakly, getting to her feet. Fred and George looked utterly gobsmacked and didn't say anything.

"I think, Molly," said Mr Weasley after taking a long, shuddering breath, "There will never be a more appropriate time for such language. Mercy…" He went over and examined Wormtail as well. "He was here… the whole time, he was right here…"

"Do you know him?" asked Harry.

"No, but I think I recognise him. I'm just not sure from where."

"Do you know anybody in Magical Law Enforcement? The sooner this man is in custody, the better."

Mr Weasley shook himself. "I… yes, I do. Molly, send a message to Kingsley." Mrs Weasley swept out of the room immediately.

"I let him sleep in my bed," choked Ron, now looking quite green. Mr Weasley's face hardened.

"Ginny, Fred, George, Percy, go downstairs with Ron. Harry and Hermione, I want a word." Nobody talked back for once, and in a moment, there were only three conscious people in the room. "I admit I'm struggling to come to terms with this. Just the thought of this man living like part of our family for the past eleven years makes my skin crawl." He shivered. "But it might have been several years longer if it weren't for you two. As much as it sickens me, I'm glad we know."

"Um, we used stunners outside of school. Are we going to get anyone in trouble?" said Hermione.

"No, don't worry about that. The Trace – the thing that tells the Ministry when you use underage magic – doesn't get monitored when you're at a wizard residence. Since Molly and I use magic around the house all day, there's no way they could be sure it was you two who cast the stunners, short of checking your wands. But none of that is going to happen, trust me. Just don't get used to using magic outside of school." They nodded.

There were loud, fast footsteps on the stairs, followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt entering the room. He was under-dressed in only a shirt and pyjama pants, but his face was anything but humorous. Not a glimmer of shock crossed his eyes as he examined Wormtail. At last, he straightened and turned to Mr Weasley. "We will need to perform a more thorough identification at the Ministry, but I believe this is none other than Peter Pettigrew."

Mrs Weasley gasped from the doorway. "But he was murdered! All they found was a…" her voice trailed off as every eye in the room landed on Pettigrew's incomplete hand.

"I realise how disturbing this is for you, Arthur," said Kingsley, waving his wand and conjuring ropes that neatly slipped around Wormtail. "Rest assured, I will make it my personal priority to investigate just how Pettigrew came to be here."

"Thank you."

"Pettigrew?" said Hermione, furrowing her brow. "I think I read about that incident. Does this mean that the man who supposedly killed him…?"

Mr Weasley and Kingsley exchanged a long look. "You should both go down and join the others," said Mr Weasley. "We can talk about this in the morning."

Harry and Hermione went down to the living room, where the Weasley children were having a heated discussion.

"That filthy _creep_," spat Ron.

"Ought to have gotten a few kicks in while he was on the ground," Fred added angrily.

Shuddering, George jammed his eyes shut as though to avoid watching a memory. "All those times we threw Scabbers into the bath when Ginny was in there… bloody hell this is messed up."

"Harry!" exclaimed Neville as he noticed their arrival. "What happened? Was that an Auror who just went up there?"

"Yes, it was," answered Hermione. "He's arresting Peter Pettigrew as we speak."

"Peter Pettigrew? That sounds familiar," said Percy with a frown. "Wasn't he murdered?"

"Apparently not."

Something clicked in Percy's brain and he sat up straight, his eyes wide. "But that means… Sirius Black… Oh, the _Daily Prophet_ is going to be in complete disarray when they find out."

"Care to explain what you're on about?" asked Fred.

"Yeah, most of us haven't memorised every murder since the seventeenth century," said George. It was a half-hearted jab at best; the boys were clearly still disturbed.

Percy explained what he remembered of the Sirius Black case, and Hermione filled in the details, often emphasising certain points, like how Sirius didn't get a trial.

"Blimey," said Ron in awe. "I had that creep Pettigrew in my bedroom every night, but this Sirius bloke has been stuck in Azkaban for no reason. Dad used to tell us stories about that place when we were little."

"He always had to wait until Mum went to bed," said George, "Because she thought they were too scary."

"Imagine being stuck in there with no support, all your friends thinking you're a crazy murderer…" Neville swallowed.

"Technically, this doesn't prove Black didn't kill those Muggles – it only proves he didn't kill Pettigrew," said Percy.

"But it's enough for a proper trial," said Harry. "With a Penseive, the rest will become clear."

They were quiet for a few minutes, during which Harry noticed Ginny's absence. "Someone should go explain this to Ginny. She's going to be confused enough as it is," he said.

Fred and George got up simultaneously. They looked uncharacteristically serious. "We'll go."

As they left, footsteps on the stairs told of people coming down. The remaining kids watched Mr Weasley appear first, looking graver than before, followed by the floating body of Wormtail, which attracted disgusted looks from all present, and lastly joined by Kingsley, who held his wand out as he descended.

Harry rose as they brought Wormtail over to the fireplace. Ron recoiled from the proximity, and Percy showed surprising tact by comforting his little brother with a hand on the shoulder. "Be very careful with him, please," said Harry. "If he escapes or is left with the wrong people, Sirius Black will never get a trial."

"Believe me, Mr Potter, I will be personally watching over this suspect. It is every Auror's worst nightmare to find we may have sent the wrong man to Azkaban," said Kingsley as Mrs Weasley came down and stood beside her husband.

"You kids should go to bed. It's been a long night already," Mr Weasley said firmly.

"Uh, Dad," said Ron, seemingly hesitant to say anything while his friends were nearby, "Can I sleep down here? Just for tonight?"

Mr Weasley's hard expression softened. "Of course. You all can, if you want." They all nodded except Percy, who got to his feet.

"I'll be just upstairs," he said quietly to Ron before leaving.

"I'll get some blankets for all of you," said Mrs Weasley, heading for the laundry.

Mr Weasley and Kingsley threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace and took Wormtail away. Harry was worried about where the little rat-faced man would end up, but surely with the material they had on Fudge and other Ministry officials, they'd be able to force them to do their jobs for once.

"Harry?" said Ron fifteen minutes later as the four kids shared blankets and pillows around the room. "Do you think you could maybe… grab my wand from my room?"

"Sure." Harry got up and climbed the stairs. As he passed Ginny's room, the door opened quietly and the twins came out, stepping softly. He could see the silhouette of Ginny's bed with a lump in the covers. "How is she?" he asked after they gently closed the door.

"She was in a bit of a state at first," said Fred grimly.

"And rightly so, at that," added George. "But we chatted with her a bit, told her a couple of jokes and so on until she fell asleep."

"We're thinking of pranking you and Hermione tomorrow so Ginny and Ron have something to laugh at."

Harry nodded. "Make it messy."

George slapped his back. "You're a good man, Harry." The twins went downstairs, while Harry continued up to Ron's room.

* * *

><p>Ginny swung her legs over the side of her bed. Harry's voice had woken her from her doze, and now she couldn't feel less like sleeping. Everything that had occurred that night came back to her, but she no longer felt scared. Harry Potter was upstairs right now, and she finally had something to say to him.<p>

She slipped out the door and quietly padded up to Ron's bedroom. Harry was standing near the repaired table holding Ron's wand. His expression was so distant that she momentarily lost the will to interrupt him.

His eyes met hers, and she jumped a little. There was no surprise on his face, just a raised eyebrow. "I thought you were asleep," he said quietly.

Ginny licked her lips, fighting the urge to bolt from the room. "You knew!" she blurted out a little too loudly, then clapped her hands over her mouth.

"I knew?" asked Harry, turning to face her properly. "Knew what?"

"That Scabbers… that man… you _knew_ you were right," she babbled, cheeks burning hotter by the second.

"Are you talking about how I drew my wand just before your dad cast the spell? I was just being careful." Harry smiled reassuringly, and Ginny's heart skipped a beat.

"N-No, not that." Ginny swallowed, and the room was so quiet that the sound seemed to echo. "You had a look on your face. Fred and George look like that when they're watching someone about to trigger a prank they've set up. You knew for sure that something was going to happen." She looked down at her feet, feeling out of breath. That was the longest thing she'd ever said to him.

Harry was quiet for a moment. "Do you remember what I said at dinner?" She nodded. "Well, you heard us going over the facts about Scabbers, and they just didn't make sense. Believe it or not, even with magic, there aren't that many ways to make a rat live so long. I knew there had to be something strange with it, and the Animagus thing seemed to fit. So yeah, I was expecting something to happen."

Ginny felt a little silly now. Of course he knew what was going to happen, he was so smart, he figured it out in a few minutes. What was she thinking?

"I should bring this down to Ron," said Harry, wiggling Ron's wand between his fingers. "Are you going to be alright going to sleep? I'm sure Fred and George won't mind helping you again."

She blushed furiously. _He must think I'm a total baby!_

"I don't think you're a baby," Harry chuckled, and her head whipped up in surprise before realising she'd spoken aloud. "Honestly, if Hedwig turned out to be some fat weirdo, I'd probably need a few hundred lullabies before I could sleep again. You're taking it much better than I would."

Ginny looked at her feet again. "He was Ron's rat, not mine." She shivered. "It's just awful thinking about him always being there. He's lived in this house as long as I have."

"And now he's gone. He'll spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, if everything goes well."

"And… if it doesn't?"

Harry's expression flickered for a moment into something she'd never seen before. He looked older and wearier, and there was something else… a greyness. It was only for a moment, but she got the distinct feeling that she had no idea what kind of person Harry Potter truly was.

But she was going to find out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: A lot of stuff happening! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	11. Chapter 10: The Ministry Marionette

**Chapter 10: The Ministry Marionette**

Morning in the Burrow was a little stranger than usual. A good night's sleep had numbed most of the shock and horror at Pettigrew and replaced it with unease and anger. Mr Weasley's face still went hard when someone brought it up, and Harry spotted him fingering his wand once or twice. It took a lot to push the kind man to anger, but discovering a hidden interloper in his family home was more than enough.

Harry only realised mid-morning that he hadn't gone to the Hollow for over a day. He subsequently realised he wasn't bothered in the slightest. The Hollow was for their dealings outside of the law, but with any luck, the Pettigrew situation would be resolved without needing to show their hand. The news regarding Yaxley was heartening; the man was scared of Harry after their duel and wasn't meeting with anyone in person. He liked that. Death Eaters spread so much fear in the past, they deserved to taste it for themselves.

Ginny's conversation last night had been unexpected. Not only had she worked up the courage to talk to him, but she showed him she was capable of making intuitive – and accurate – leaps of logic based on very little information. If he was honest, she was like him in his first year. They couldn't underestimate her. Thankfully, she was still young enough and infatuated enough that most people would dismiss any claims she made about him, but that was no reason to give her the information to make those claims at all. Better to just be careful and keep her attention occupied with more important things.

Mr Weasley was at the Ministry despite it being a weekend in order to file a report with Kingsley. The Auror hadn't let Pettigrew out of his sight, according to a rushed note that arrived through the fireplace at midday, though he was encountering some difficulties getting their superiors to acknowledge who they had found.

There was a lot of tension in the Weasley household, despite the slime-bombs that caught Harry and Hermione separately as they helped de-gnome the garden. Ron had a chuckle, and Ginny looked at Hermione's sloppy clothes with barely-hidden approval, but the humour didn't last long. Mrs Weasley must have sensed the tension too, because she kept everyone busy doing chores and eating.

In the evening, Harry found himself lounging on the couch in the living room, absently making his wand slip into his hand and then back into its sheath. Ron was watching from an armchair, resting his chin on the armrest and letting his arm dangle.

"Did you like the cake we sent you?" said Ron.

Harry nodded, not taking his eyes off his wand. "It was fantastic. I probably would've died of starvation if you hadn't sent it."

Ron snorted softly. "You don't have to talk it up, you know. We can both see that Neville's present was better."

"Ron, seriously?" Harry sheathed his wand one last time and took off his glasses before rubbing his eyes. "Being allowed to come here is the best gift you could've given me. If you'd met the Dursleys, you'd understand." When he only got a grunt for a reply, Harry replaced his glasses and turned to face Ron. "What's bothering you?"

Ron grimaced. "Nothing really… it's just, last year you saved my arse so many times."

"Huh? When?"

"The duel at the lake, for one."

"You shielded yourself just fine."

"Come on, Harry," Ron muttered, face flushing. "We both know you took the brunt of the attack. I just blocked a couple of strays."

"Why do you keep putting yourself down?" Harry growled. "You held your shield against the Slytherins, and that's all that matters."

"Second, when you got hurt and we found out that you were the only reason we weren't being hexed in the corridors."

"It probably wasn't because of me. The Slytherins just saw two targets instead of three and decided they had a better chance of winning."

"Nope, some of them gloated about you not being there to save us."

Harry reclined back on the couch. "Well… I still don't think just walking around with you counts as 'saving your arse'."

"The duelling class. Remember that Anthony guy who was firing off spells in every direction? You stopped him from fighting so stupidly and probably saved me a trip to the hospital wing."

"If I recall correctly, you beat him even while he was fighting like an idiot. Not to mention he was a few years older than you."

Ron's ears were bright red and he was sitting a bit straighter despite himself. "Alright, what about Scabbers then? On your first night here, you discovered something we missed for over a decade."

Harry grinned now that the tension had been released somewhat. "I suppose I'll take credit for that one, at least."

Hermione entered the living room carrying a black book. "Ron, is this yours?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, it is. I got it from the library."

"What are you studying Occlumency for? I thought you hated it." She sat down beside Harry and started flipping through the book.

Ron cleared his throat. "Cause I can't let myself be goaded into using my ring when I'm not in danger. I should have more control over myself."

"You still feel guilty about that? Look, it's fine," said Harry, exasperated.

"Maybe it's a good idea," said Hermione. "I mean, we were trying to teach you and Neville last year anyway, so if this is the motivation you needed, let's use it."

Before dinner, the Watchers of the Stone gathered in the orchard and sat in a circle. Ginny was watching from beside a tree near the house. "It's been a while since you two have practiced this, I'm guessing," said Hermione. Ron and Neville nodded.

"I like it, but there wasn't much use for it at my grans, and I just… forgot," said Neville.

"Same, but without the 'liking it' part," said Ron.

"That's fine. We're going to work pretty hard on Occlumency this year because if I'm honest, your training last year was all over the place. I'm surprised you learned as much as you did considering we'd sometimes go weeks without practicing." Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The others followed suit. "So let's start from the beginning again. It should still be fairly familiar. We'll practice every day until school starts."

The exercise began, with Harry and Hermione taking turns leading the instruction. This stage of Occlumency was rather calming. It involved little more than visualisation and breath control, something anyone could learn with enough patience. The true form of Occlumency stemmed from these gentle processes. Ron and Neville had only barely scratched the surface last year, but Harry could feel their new determination. The bond that their rings symbolised was the catalyst behind their change in attitude, he was sure.

When the sun started to set, they went inside for dinner. Mr Weasley arrived home halfway through, looking weary and worried. "Nightmare," he said, kissing Mrs Weasley on the cheek and sitting down. "Absolute nightmare."

"Any news, father?" asked Percy eagerly.

"Let him eat, Percy," Mrs Weasley scolded.

Mr Weasley spoke while he ate. "Filled in the report for Kingsley – had to do it right outside the cell with the 'suspect' in it. Kingsley won't leave him alone for a second in case someone tries to sweep this whole thing under the rug."

"They can't do that, Dad. There's proper procedure to go through, they'll need to put him on trial," said Percy.

"To some people, public opinion is worth more than justice, and that's all I'll say about that." Mr Weasley dug in.

Harry ate, but he was no longer hungry. Sooner or later, Kingsley wouldn't be able to guard Pettigrew, and the little rat would vanish. "Fudge wasn't even Minister when Sirius was imprisoned for killing Pettigrew," he mused out loud. "He could gain respect from the public by correcting the wrongs of the previous Minister."

"But the Ministry as a whole would lose favour for letting the bad decision happen in the first place, Harry," said Hermione. "Not to mention, an unpopular leader can be used to push controversial legislation."

"Because if public backlash is too strong, they can easily be replaced," Harry continued, getting her point. "Whereas an unpopular Ministry is much more difficult to fix. Hence, the cover-up." She nodded in agreement.

The Weasleys were looking at them oddly. Percy looked a bit shocked to discover other people interested in politics. Mr Weasley glanced between them, not noticing some steak juice dribbling from his fork onto his lap. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at this point, but good grief. Since when do twelve-year-olds have reasonable knowledge of politics?" he asked.

"We spent all of last month studying," explained Hermione. "Not just schoolwork, but anything in the wizarding world. There's still so much we don't know since we grew up with Muggles."

"It made sense that we should learn about our government," Harry added with a shrug.

"Told you they're geniuses, Dad," said Ron around a mouthful of potato. He and Neville hadn't stopped eating for a second.

After the table was cleared and the dishes were washing themselves in the sink, most of the Burrow inhabitants drifted up to their rooms to get ready for bed. Harry nodded to Hermione and they went over to Mrs Weasley, who was reading a book on the couch beside Mr Weasley.

"Mrs Weasley?" Hermione asked tentatively. "Do you mind if Harry and I go for a walk?"

Mrs Weasley looked at them with a little smile. "It's a little dark, don't you think?"

"Ah, Ron mentioned your late night excursions," Mr Weasley chuckled. "I think the moonlight is bright enough to not get lost. Just stay near the house."

Harry and Hermione stepped out into the brisk night air. Hermione immediately took his hand and snuggled closer as they walked, and he returned the gesture. If Mr and Mrs Weasley were watching from the window, they'd see nothing but an adorable young couple.

"The orchard," Harry said quietly.

"We'll have to be very quick."

They picked up their pace once the house was behind some trees and were almost running when they reached the orchard. They ducked behind a large bush and Disapparated.

The Hollow hadn't changed a bit. Malfoy's collection of sensitive information was still stacked neatly on the table. Harry dove straight in, searching for Fudge's profile. Hermione did one better and summoned it straight into her hands.

"He has a number of weak points, but apparently the most effective ones are his attending staff. He will cave to any pressure they give him, so if we control them, we'll control him. Just three should do it," she said. "Lucy Morris, Barnaby Slade, and Brian Oswald." She wrinkled her nose. "Umbridge is on here too, but I don't want to bother with her until we have to."

Harry summoned the necessary profiles and started reading. "Morris likes to gamble more than she makes. If her colleagues found out, they'd get her fired immediately. Apparently her position is highly sought-after."

"Slade has a long-term deal going with some Bulgarian traders where he looks the other way once in a while so that a 'special' shipment can enter the UK unnoticed," Hermione read over his shoulder. "He'll melt at the first sign that somebody knows."

"Oswald barely escaped an embarrassing trial for some things he did while intoxicated. He paid off a few people to keep his record clean. His particular job requires a perfect criminal record." Harry shook his head. "This is ridiculous. Is anyone at the Ministry _not_ corrupt?"

"I think so, but they don't rise very high," Hermione replied.

"We know their weak points, but how do we approach them?"

"These profiles have their home addresses. We write an anonymous letter to each of them detailing what we know and what we want them to do in exchange for our discretion." Hermione sighed and conjured three pieces of parchment. "Quickly, now."

Harry tapped one piece, thinking about what he needed to inform Oswald of. Perfectly formed letters spread across the page. They weren't in his handwriting, so he felt no qualms about using it. Hermione did the same to the other two pages. "I'll take Oswald and Slade," said Harry.

One Disillusionment Charm later and Harry stood out the front of a two-story house with a large yard. This was clearly a well-off neighbourhood. He approached the door and slid Oswald's folded letter through the gap before Apparating away without hesitation. There was so very little time!

Back at the Hollow, Harry examined Slade's profile, squinting at the little picture of his house attached to the file. Harry focused as hard as he could and Apparated. The house before him looked like the one in the picture, just wetter. Wind and rain howled in the night as Harry splashed to the front door of a wide house on top of a hill.

Harry shivered as he slid the letter through the slot. Back at the Hollow, Hermione helped dry him thoroughly and they neatened the stacks of files again. After dispelling the Disillusionment Charms, it was time to go back.

They tried to look nonchalant as they snuggled close again and Apparated to the orchard. Without missing a step, they walked back towards the Burrow. Harry couldn't see his watch in the dark, so he fretted that they'd been gone for over an hour, even though it didn't feel that long.

Mrs Weasley met them halfway, bright light shining from her wand. "Oh, there you are. The orchard's a little too far from the house this late at night. Not that I don't think you're both capable, but it's just for my own peace of mind."

"Sorry, we lost track of time and just ended up there," said Harry, letting go of Hermione's hand as though embarrassed.

"I understand, dear. I was young once too, you know."

* * *

><p>The midday <em>Prophet<em> brought some interesting news: _Peter Pettigrew: Alive?_ Mr Weasley came home just to show it to everyone. "I don't know how Kingsley managed it, but suddenly his reports are being read and Pettigrew's name was added to the custody roster," he said cheerfully. "I honestly didn't expect things to go our way on this. Even Kingsley almost showed a glimmer of surprise when he found out."

"I knew proper procedure would win out in the end. None of this cover-up nonsense," sniffed Percy, deliberately not looking at Harry and Hermione.

"This goes against what we know of the Ministry," said Hermione disappointedly. "I really thought we understood this particular issue."

Mr Weasley shrugged. "To be honest, I agreed with what you said last night. I can't speak openly about such things, but I still agreed. This sudden change does seem a little jarring compared to what I'm used to, but sometimes life can work that way. I'm not going to question our good fortune."

"So will that creep get thrown in Azkaban?" asked Ron hopefully.

"Maybe, but we've got a little way to go before we reach that stage. People are going to be questioning him and going through all the paperwork. Sooner or later though, they'll be forced to bring Sirius Black in for his trial." Mr Weasley breathed out heavily. "The papers are going to have a field day with that. It won't be a retrial, you see, it will be his _only_ trial. The Ministry is going to be ripped to shreds over this, and I can't help but feel that we deserve it."

"But we don't know if Sirius Black really did kill those Muggles or not. Just because Pettigrew somehow survived doesn't mean Black isn't a mass murderer," Percy reminded them.

"Well the case won't be closed if there's any doubt this time. The only thing worse than sending the wrong man to prison is sending him twice," said Hermione. Mr Weasley nodded.

The day's Occlumency lesson soon followed, on the basis that calming themselves down while they were excited by the news was good practice. Harry settled in to a nice routine that was rather relaxing after the events of the previous month. Days slipped by without any further developments with Sirius, but he was just happy that something was finally happening. He began entertaining fantasies of leaving the Dursleys and living with Sirius at Grimmauld Place like they'd once hoped for.

Sharing a room (and a bed) with Ron and Neville was very cramped, especially with their trunks lying around. Hermione said that sharing with Ginny wasn't getting any easier, despite her best efforts to befriend her. Ginny was simply far too infatuated to be able to put up with anything from Hermione. Harry had occasionally walked in on her in the middle of an insulting rant to the twins or her mother. She always clammed up and bolted from the room before he could say anything.

On one lazy day, Harry, Ron and Neville were in Ron's bedroom, feeling full after a big lunch. Harry was prowling around the masses of dirty clothes looking for a shirt. Ron was reading the Occlumency book on his bed with more focus than Harry had ever seen from him at school. The mistake with the rings seemed to have been a real turning point for him.

"Have either of you seen any of my shirts?" asked Harry, rifling through his trunk.

"I think Mum took some stuff for washing," replied Ron. Neville shrugged.

Harry sighed. "I don't suppose either of you feel like going down to the laundry to grab a shirt for me?"

Ron chuckled and turned a page. Neville was distracted reading a poster. "Just go," said Ron. "Give Ginny and Hermione a show."

"Thanks," Harry said dryly.

Wearing nothing but his trousers and bracers, he left Ron's room and descended to the ground floor. He could hear the twins mocking Percy about something in the living room, so he quietly took a shortcut through the kitchen to the laundry room. As luck had it, all three females in the house were already in there. Hermione had probably offered to help sort some clothes, while Ginny was irritably scrubbing at a mud-stained jacket.

"Er, could I just grab one of my shirts, Mrs Weasley?" asked Harry. Hermione glanced at him and smirked before getting back to work. Her cheekiness was getting out of hand.

"Oh, didn't I leave you one?" said Mrs Weasley, turning away from a basket of socks. She gasped suddenly, as did Ginny, whose face immediately went red. "What's happened to you, dear?"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Good grief, your shoulder! And those marks on your chest!" Mrs Weasley abandoned the socks and came over to him with her wand drawn.

"It's nothing. Just stuff from last year," he said quickly, waving away her wand.

She of course wouldn't be so easily dissuaded. "This one on your shoulder looks recent. Goodness, what caused a burn like that?"

"Getting into trouble, most likely," tutted Hermione disapprovingly. He wanted to shake her.

"Tea," he said. "I must have splashed some boiling water on myself while making tea for the Dursleys. It doesn't hurt, really, it's fine – ow!" Mrs Weasley prodded the burn with her wand.

"Doesn't hurt, does it? Oh, you're just like the boys… it's not manly to pretend you aren't hurt, you know!" Harry felt the tingle of medical spells wash over him. "Maybe we should take you to St Mungo's just in case… yes, that would be the right thing to do. Imagine if your aunt and uncle found out, oh, they'd think we're terrible people."

"They'd probably complain that I didn't burn my face as well," muttered Harry as he was pulled out of the laundry room, which was getting a little cramped. "Look, Mrs Weasley, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but it's not that bad. I'd rather avoid another trip to St Mungo's if at all possible."

Mrs Weasley finally stopped fussing. "But it's such a _nasty_ burn… never seen boiling water leave that kind of mark, not in all my days."

"It hurts less than the scars on my chest did when they discharged me last time. I barely notice it, trust me."

"Well, I'm going to put a salve on there and bandage it too."

Harry decided there was no point arguing further, and allowed his shoulder to be slathered in green goo before being covered in far more bandages than were necessary. When it was finally over, Hermione tossed him a shirt that he recognised as the same one he'd worn when he got the scar in the first place. Her bright smile told him it wasn't an accident, and he filled his head with unamused thoughts.

Ginny continued to scrub at the jacket while facing away, even though Harry was sure it was cleaner than it had ever been. It was… strange being around her. He honestly felt the same as he did the first time around. Her crush on him was a little awkward, but it didn't inspire any romantic feelings. She was so young and so different to the Ginny he'd loved; it was hard to see them as the same person.

There was only a week left of the holidays when _The Daily Prophet _finally had an update on the case.

_PETTIGREW SPEAKS_

_In the first press release since the startling revelation that Peter Pettigrew, thought to have been killed by mass-murderer Sirius Black, is still alive, the man himself has made a statement regarding his disappearance._

_Pettigrew claims that he was stalked by Sirius Black immediately after the murderer betrayed the location of James and Lily Potter to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "Black was insane and had a murderous look in his eyes," according to Pettigrew. When cornered on a Muggle street by Black, Pettigrew says he knew the only way to stop Black from hunting him was to fake his death._

_Pettigrew cut off his finger and turned into a rat when Sirius cast his deadly spell, but claims there were some unintended side-effects. Dazed and confused, Pettigrew says he doesn't remember much from that point onwards, and believes the spell had addled his senses so he believed he was a real rat._

_Eventually, he ended up as the pet of the Weasley family. When he was forcibly reverted to his human form, he claims his senses returned to him and he panicked, resulting in his arrest. Now in Ministry custody, he says he is happy to finally think like a human again, and praises the actions of the Weasley family for giving him his life back._

_This statement raises several unanswered questions that the Aurors are investigating – chiefly of which is the fact that Pettigrew is an unregistered Animagus, a crime typically punished with a sentence in Azkaban. Whether such punishment will be excused in light of Pettigrew's extenuating circumstances remains to be seen._

"That explains that," said Percy smartly. "It's not as bad as it seemed. He really thought he was a rat for the last eleven years."

"Do you even have the capacity for critical thought, Percy?" Harry said angrily. "Or do you just believe everything everyone tells you without question?" Percy recoiled, looking indignant.

"Harry's right," said Hermione. "Pettigrew's story doesn't make sense. He must be preying on people's sympathy to try and get released early, because he doesn't want to be forced into a trial with Sirius."

"Well of course he doesn't," said Percy, "The man killed a dozen people with one spell! Who would want to be in a trial with him?"

"You seem very intent on defending Pettigrew." Harry rounded on him.

"_You_ seem very intent on attacking him when we don't even know the full story!" Percy replied forcefully.

They glared at each other until Mr Weasley put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Let's just hold our opinions until the trial," he said firmly. "There's no point flying off the handle when we don't know what we're dealing with."

* * *

><p>With only a few days left before school started, Harry was feeling increasingly impatient at the lack of progress with Sirius. According to the papers, the Ministry was still investigating Pettigrew, but the articles were now coming few and far between as the public eye shifted onto other topics. Harry and Hermione were running out of time to work with; once back at Hogwarts, it would be much harder to fight for Sirius.<p>

Harry dressed and readied himself alongside a lethargic Ron and anxious Neville. Today they were going to Diagon Alley to pick up their new supplies – and some new wands, too. In Ginny's case, her first wand. She was so excited that she mispronounced Diagon Alley when using the Floo powder and ended up in an old witch's apartment above a cauldron store.

Once the group had been reunited, they made their way to Gringotts. The Weasley vault was about as empty as Harry remembered, which made the subsequent trips to the Longbottom and Potter vaults a little awkward. Even when Neville tried to engage Ron in their usual mindless Quidditch banter, he still looked uncomfortable. Harry just beared it. Considering the scope of the problems he and Hermione faced, this just wasn't important.

As they approached Ollivander's, Mrs Weasley stopped in the street. "Now, while Ginny and I are buying her wand, why don't the rest of you go to Flourish and Blotts for your new books?"

"I need to get a new wand as well," said Neville.

Ron swallowed audibly. "Same here."

"And I'm paying for both of them," Harry finished.

Mrs Weasley blinked. "But you already have a wand, dear," she said to Ron.

"It's not really _my_ wand, is it? It used to be Charlie's before he got his own."

"Yes, well, it works perfectly fine, doesn't it?"

"Up to a point, yeah." Ron seemed to gather his courage. "But I'll never reach my true potential if don't have my own wand. I felt it last year; there was a wall I couldn't get past no matter how hard I tried."

"Still – Harry, it's very nice of you to offer – very nice – but I can't allow you to spend your money like this."

"My hands are tied, Mrs Weasley," said Harry with a shrug. "Ron's a member of the advance class of the self-defence club Hermione and I run at school. It's part of the rules that I have to provide him and Neville with new wands."

They ended up going into Ollivander's with Mrs Weasley pursing her lips and fidgeting, as though stopping herself from outright forbidding Harry from paying. Ginny got her wand first, though she almost dropped it when she noticed Harry smiling at her. He remembered how he'd felt when he got his wand.

"Mr Potter!" said Ollivander as Mrs Weasley bustled Ginny away from the counter. "I didn't expect to see you here again. You are not looking for a new wand, are you? Yours was such a perfect fit… I could not bear to match you with another."

"No, Mr Ollivander, my wand is fine. I'm here for my friends," Harry replied politely. Ollivander wasn't a bad man, but he was… odd when it came to wands.

Ron went first, receiving a wand of willow and unicorn tail hair. Harry couldn't remember if it was the same one he had in the future. Ron was delighted but fighting hard not to show it as he put the wand away. Harry quietly slipped the payment over the counter and nodded to Neville.

Neville took longer to be chosen by a wand, but when he was, there was no mistaking it. A sudden wind sent everyone's clothes flapping and knocked over a step ladder. "Some are more vocal than others, yes…" Ollivander looked pleased despite the disarray his shop was in. While Neville and Ron compared their new wands (Mrs Weasley just rolled her eyes), Harry paid for Neville before being struck by a thought.

"Mr Ollivander," he said quietly, "Do wands have souls?"

The wandmaker gave him a curious look. "Any interesting query, Mr Potter, and heavily debated among those learned in wandlore. What would bring you to ask such a thing?"

_Oh, I just traversed the time-stream with my friend and I noticed we were holding our wands despite having no physical forms._ Out loud, Harry said, "Academic curiosity."

"Ah." Ollivander lost a little of his enthusiasm. "As I said, the issue is hotly debated. It is suggested by some that due to the partial sentience of wands that they must possess some form of soul… but it is suggested by others that they are still, in essence, inanimate objects, not creatures, and therefore would not have souls."

"Which do you believe?"

There was a glint in Ollivander's eyes. "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Potter."

Harry left the store feeling thoughtful. He hadn't thought much about the time-stream, but for some reason seeing his friends' new wands jolted the memory to the front of his mind. During those impossible (moments?) where he and Hermione waded through Time itself, they had both been carrying their wands. How could that be?

"Harry?" Ron nudged him and Harry realised he had stopped walking in the middle of the street.

"Sorry, just thinking." The group started moving again. Ginny was staring at him from behind Mrs Weasley's dress.

"Listen, thanks for this," Ron whispered, wiggling his wand a bit. "I know you're just pretending about the advance class rules, but I'm going to pay you back someday."

"I'm not pretending. I'll buy a new wand for any member of the advance class that needs one."

Ron looked a bit annoyed and probably would have pressed the issue if Neville didn't distract him by accidentally shooting sparks from his wand. "I know it's nice having new wands," said Mrs Weasley warningly, "But you're not at school at the moment, so I think you should put them away."

The boys sheepishly did as they were told.

* * *

><p>Ginny kept close to her mother's back as they walked. Ron, Neville, and Harry walked ahead talking about the 'self-defence' class they were all excited about. She watched Harry for as long as she dared, though she was beginning to recognise the signs that he knew she was watching. A slight tilt of his head and a quirk at the corner of his mouth was enough to make her duck behind Mum.<p>

The last few weeks had been tumultuous. Every day, she seemed to find a new way to embarrass herself – if her brothers didn't do it for her. All of the courage she'd mustered to talk to him on the night Pettigrew was revealed had evaporated. She frequently lay awake at night cringing and groaning into her pillow as each awkward moment went through her mind.

How was Hermione so comfortable around him? How was _anyone_ comfortable around him? Every time he was in the same room, she couldn't think about anything else. It was so stupid! The only thing Ginny envied about that bushy-haired stupid genius was her composure. And the way she walked like a princess, so graceful. She probably laughed on the inside every time Ginny stumbled over her own feet.

And then there was the time Harry just casually walked into the laundry without a shirt on! Her brothers did that sometimes, sure, but he was a guest! She did wonder where the scars all came from. Some were from the 'troll incident' they mentioned occasionally but never gave her the full details, but Harry had clearly been lying when he claimed his newest scar was from boiling water. Ginny had made a few phony excuses in her life – not as many as her brothers, of course – and she knew when someone was improvising. How did he really get such a burn? The Dursleys, maybe? She shivered at the thought. The more she heard about those Muggles, the less she liked them.

Diagon Alley bustled with students and parents buying school supplies. Ginny wondered how many of these kids would be her classmates this year. She hoped at least one of them would be friendly. With her wand clutched in both hands, Ginny took a deep breath and moved to walk beside her mother, rather than behind her. If any of these other kids were her future friends, she didn't want them to see her as afraid of anything.

Her new position exposed her to Harry's eyes, but she needed to be strong. Granted, he wasn't even looking back at her, but if he did, he wouldn't see her hiding. Maybe he'd think she'd matured a little now that she had a wand, and he'd realise Hermione was a bushy jerk and would leave her. Ginny giggled under her breath. Harry looked back at her for a split second and their eyes met. He smiled, then turned back to Neville and Ron. Why did he always do that? He would somehow sense she was looking at him, then give her that kind smile. What was he trying to say? It reminded her of the way a grown man would look at a small child. Friendly, but slightly patronising. Babies don't remember every adult that smiles at them, after all. _I swear, if he starts making faces or tries to give me a raspberry, I'll give him a scar as big as I am._

As if he had the right to be pleasantly amused by her, anyway. She wasn't the one who just stopped walking and stared blankly like a fish. Ginny had heard everything Harry said to Ollivander, and none of it was interesting enough to make _her_ act like that. He didn't even have the manners to be embarrassed about it! She would've added it to her list of cringe worthy moments if it was her.

They reached Flourish and Blotts, where Dad, Percy, the twins, and Hermione were waiting with the schoolbooks. Ginny watched out of the corner of her eye as Hermione shoved a pile of books into Harry's arms. "I bought you a present," Hermione said brightly, adding a small dark book to Harry's stack. Harry looked into Hermione's eyes for a long moment before smiling.

"A diary?" he said, flipping through the blank pages.

"Yes. It's second hand, but the last person who owned it only wrote their name. I hope you don't mind." Hermione shrugged sheepishly, but her eyes were sharp and focused. For that matter, Harry's were too. They were so weird!

"I love it. You should have warned me though, I didn't get you anything."

"My birthday's in a couple of weeks. You've got plenty of time to think it over."

Ginny looked down at her shoes. How much longer did Mum expect her to put up with this? It wasn't _fair_! All Hermione did was buy a crummy second-hand diary! How was that thoughtful or romantic in any way?

_I wish I had a diary,_ she thought sullenly.

"Arthur!" A man with a shiny bald head and round body waddled up to the group. Dad turned and shook his hand.

"Wesley, all right are you?"

Wesley waggled a newspaper under Dad's nose. "Read this and ask me again."

Ginny tried to read it as well, but she was too short. A minute later, Dad shook his head in disbelief. "Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban," he said. Mum and Percy gasped, along with some passersby.

"That proves it then," said Percy after a moment. "An innocent man wouldn't run."

Harry bristled, and Ginny thought he was about to draw his wand when Hermione stepped in. "It proves nothing. For all we know, Fudge ordered a false release so they could 'accidentally' kill Black while he was supposedly escaping. If he's dead, he can't give evidence at a trial."

Percy scoffed. "Now you're just spouting conspiracy theories. The Ministry can't order such a thing. They'd be breaking their own laws."

"Not here," said Dad in a low voice. "People are starting to stare. Let's get back to the Burrow before chewing each other's heads off."

Ginny finally caught a glimpse of the front page as Dad tucked the paper under his arm. It showed a long-haired man screaming in rage. Why on earth would Harry defend him?

* * *

><p>At the Burrow, Harry immediately packed his books away in his trunk, the diary among them. He had no intention of ever writing in it.<p>

Sirius was free! Free, and being hunted again. Harry agreed with Hermione's theory – in fact, she had probably taken it from his mind the second he'd thought of it. Sirius didn't have the same reason for escaping as last time, which made him unpredictable. The papers had been talking about Pettigrew being alive, but how would Sirius have gotten a copy? Was he on his way to the Ministry right now, determined to slaughter Pettigrew?

"What's with you?" asked Neville, packing his own books away in a much calmer manner.

Ron dumped his carelessly into his trunk, hesitated, then knelt down to put them in order. "Yeah, why do you care what happens to Black?"

"He's my godfather," said Harry, fingering his sheathed wand. If he could track down Sirius, he could hide him from the Ministry while pushing for Pettigrew's trial. Veritaserum was too unreliable to be used in court, and memories could be fabricated, but there had to be some way to guarantee Pettigrew's conviction.

Ron and Neville were staring at him with their mouths open. "Your _godfather_ is Sirius Black?!" exclaimed Ron.

"Yes."

"Blood hell. Why didn't you mention that earlier?"

"Would you go around shouting it at the top of your lungs?"

"Fair point, but still..." They exchanged glances. "Is that why you want him to be innocent?"

Harry decided not to reply.

After an early dinner, Harry and Hermione went for another walk through the orchard. The sun hadn't set yet, so they would likely have more time to work with than usual. Mrs Weasley always insisted on coming out to find them when it got too dark, no matter their assurances that they knew the way.

Once they were out of sight of the Burrow, they Apparated to the Hollow.

"We need to check on our people on the inside," said Hermione. "We should have gotten better results by now. If they're trying to kill Sirius to stop the trial, then Fudge is willing to do anything to avoid the public backlash."

"I'll check on Slade and Oswald," Harry said, camouflaging himself and Apparating to Slade's rain-slicked house on a hill. Someone was sitting on the front steps with their head in their hands. Harry approached carefully, recognising Slade's face from the profile.

The man looked up suddenly, peering through the thick rain. His eyes widened. "It's you, isn't it?" he said, just loud enough to be heard over the noise. Harry realised the rain was making him a bit visible despite the Disillusionment Charm, like a spectre in the night. "You sent that letter telling me to talk to Fudge about that Pettigrew bloke."

Harry said nothing, casting a Silencing Charm around both of them just in case somebody overheard.

"Listen, I don't know why you're doing this, and I don't want to," Slade said, his voice cracking. "But I pushed too hard, and now they're pushing back. I'm going to lose my job if I don't drop it." He shook his head. "I have my family to think about, here! That's the only reason I let those Bulgarians… you know… I just want to keep my boys safe and fed." Slade had tears streaking down his face along with the raindrops. "Either way, no matter who I obey, I'll lose it all. Please, sir, I don't know who you are, but please don't make me keep pushing for a trial."

Harry silently cast a voice-distorting charm before replying. "Who is pushing you to drop it?" His voice came out deeper and tinged with a radio static-like sound. It was downright ominous.

Slade flinched. "Umbridge, sir, Dolores Umbridge and a few other senior members. They have Fudge's ear and most of his authority."

"You will continue to push for a trial," said Harry. "We will attend to the opposition. Do this, and you will have your freedom." He Apparated back to the Hollow, feeling a little ill about the whole thing.

Next was Oswald's two-story house in a rich neighbourhood. The second he took a step towards the front door, he felt an alarm go off. The letter slot in the door shot a red bolt of light at him, but he dodged reflexively. The door burst open and Oswald was there, greying hair and dark skin, his wand raised angrily as he looked around for the trespasser.

"Not this time, you devils! I won't be your tool!" Oswald roared.

Harry disarmed him and snatched the wand out of the air. Oswald suddenly looked a lot less confident. "You will insist that Pettigrew receives a trial," said Harry in his strange, distorted voice.

Oswald recoiled slightly. "If a trial reveals any wrongdoing on the Ministry's part, the whole cabinet will be reshuffled. I worked for over a decade to get this position!"

"Better to lose your position but remain high in the Ministry than to lose it all. Do you think Rita Skeeter would enjoy reading about your indiscretions?"

"T-that was in the past," mumbled Oswald, "Years ago… barely even remember it…" Harry remained silent. "Fine. No matter what, I'm going to fall a long way. Umbridge and her cronies are moving on anyone who even _thinks_ about supporting a trial."

"She won't bother you," Harry whispered, but it came out as a low hiss. "Do this, and you'll be freed."

Oswald's terrified look was the last thing Harry saw before he tossed the extra wand to the ground and Apparated to the Hollow.

Hermione looked up as he appeared. "I just had to coerce Morris while she was on her second bottle of cooking sherry," she said grimly.

"I just," Harry began before realising the voice-distortion spell was still in effect. He dispelled it and cleared his throat. "I just had to deal with a crying family man and a trapped front door."

Hermione whistled. "Okay, you win."

"This feels awful." Harry dropped into a chair.

"I know it does, but we're doing this all for Sirius. And besides, these are the kind of people who won't do what's right without being forced into it. I don't have much sympathy for them."

"Umbridge needs to be dealt with." Harry got up and started to pace.

"Agreed. I'm not certain on the right path to take, though."

With a barely-suppressed groan of annoyance, Harry checked his watch. "We'll have to do it tomorrow. It'll be dark at the Burrow by now, and Mrs Weasley's probably looking for us."

"Alright, but I need you to do something first. I gave you the diary today, remember?"

"Of course I do. So you need me to plant a false memory of you buying the diary from a street vendor?"

"Yes."

"Is it really necessary?" Harry pressed his wand against her forehead.

"I'd rather have it than not. You need to put a lot of power into it, or it will be obvious if someone views it in a Penseive."

Harry arranged the scene in his mind, keeping the vendor's face average in every way. Hermione was walking with Mr Weasley and everyone when she fell behind and saw the diary among his wares. She bought it and hurried to catch up, with nobody even noticing her absence. It was simple, but Harry was determined to make it powerful enough to withstand all but the most brutal of memory-breaking.

When he lowered his wand, Hermione furrowed her brow. "Yes, I think it fits fairly well… you left the beginning and end a little fuzzy so it blends into my real memories, that was good thinking… yes, this is perfect."

"Thanks, Professor."

* * *

><p>The news went from bad to worse in the morning. Hermione had just finished dressing when Ginny sat up in bed behind her. "I saw you vanish last night," she said quietly.<p>

Hermione didn't pause as she brushed her hair. "Hm?"

"You and Harry went into the orchard after dinner. I could see you from here." Ginny rubbed sleep from her eyes and gestured to the window.

"Yes, we like going on an evening stroll."

"You didn't stroll. You stopped next to a tree and then vanished."

Hermione put the brush down and folded her arms. "Harry happens to own a very effective invisibility cloak, and we both share the desire for privacy."

"But when you were out there, Ron and Neville were messing around with the cloak in here, trying to find each other and stuff. I don't think they asked Harry, which is probably why you didn't know and just tried to lie to me," said Ginny accusingly.

Hermione suppressed an annoyed sigh. Ginny was too perceptive for her own good. Hermione let her Legilimency slip into Ginny's unprotected mind, seeing the confusion and suspicion held within the girl. Jealousy ran rampant, as expected, as well as strong infatuation whenever she thought of Harry.

"I'd be more inclined to tell the truth if you didn't spend every moment insulting me whenever Harry and I aren't nearby," said Hermione politely.

"Would you be more _inclined_ if I go tell Mum that you were doing magic outside of school?" Ginny shot back, not even hiding her dislike anymore.

Hermione huffed. "I'm sure she'll be very surprised to hear another accusation about me. Especially one that's actually less believable than the rest."

"I know what I saw. I won't forget. Harry mentioned a Penseive when he was talking about Pettigrew before, and I asked Mum what they are. As soon as I can show someone you two were breaking the rules, I will." Ginny didn't look very shy and cute at the moment.

"Unless?"

"Unless you tell me what you were doing."

Hermione drew her wand. "I'd rather not." _Obliviate!_ Ginny stared blankly for a few seconds. "Ginny?" asked Hermione. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I…" the girl shook her head. "I'm fine." She yawned widely.

"Can I ask you something, then?"

Ginny eyed her suspiciously. "What?"

"Why don't you like me? Did I do something to annoy you?" Hermione tried to make her voice sound a little hurt.

"No," Ginny replied flatly, starting to get dressed. "Can I have some privacy?"

Hermione sighed and left the room. It was worth a shot. She knew Harry simply assumed Ginny would be part of the group at Hogwarts, but as things were now, Ginny would probably prefer to be in Slytherin. To think that shy little girl was willing to blackmail her at the drop of a hat… Well, Hermione was glad she tried. That memory wouldn't come back to haunt them later. They'd need to be more careful when going to the orchard in the evening, though.

Harry came down the stairs at that moment, and favoured her with a kiss on the cheek before continuing on to the kitchen. Hermione couldn't help the pleased smile that had appeared on her face the moment she caught a look at his thoughts. He was still a bit sleepy, so his thoughts were fuzzy, but that only made them sweeter in her opinion. They were just simple things, like _Hermione looks cute,_ and _I want to hold her_, and other such things. Harry would never admit to being so sappy in his head, and she had no intention of calling him out on it. It was like their little secret.

And so, despite everything, she was in a good mood when she joined Harry for breakfast. Only Mr Weasley was up this early, so they helped him cook some bacon, eggs, and toast. "I wish my own kids did this once in a while," he chuckled as Hermione poured him some tea. "Fred and George tried to make tea for me once, but I didn't trust it when I saw Percy's eyebrows turning blue."

While they ate, Mr Weasley skimmed through the _Daily Prophet_, looking unimpressed. "I wouldn't read this issue if I were you, Harry."

"I'm guessing Fudge has declared Sirius' escape as a sign of guilt?" Harry said with clearly suppressed annoyance.

"Afraid so. Though really, it's a bit much to expect anyone to turn down a chance for freedom if they're trapped in Azkaban – good or evil, nobody wants to be there."

"I'm sure the truth will come out eventually." Hermione spoke as though she was just joining in the conversation, but her eyes were on Harry. He was so worried about Sirius, it broke her heart.

"Regardless of what happens to Black, I want that Pettigrew to explain himself a bit better. Disoriented, he said. For eleven years, no less!" Mr Weasley shook his head. "I've worked with Animagi before, and they've never mentioned forgetting what species they really are."

"His story will fall apart under scrutiny. That's why they're trying to avoid a trial," said Hermione.

"I wonder where Sirius is right now," Harry said quietly.

"As far from the wizarding world as possible, I'd expect," said Mr Weasley, turning a page. "Probably halfway around the world by now."

Hermione suddenly noticed something in Harry's memories that made her drop her fork. _You told Ron and Neville that Sirius is your godfather?_ She slipped her thoughts into his mind on a strand of Legilimency.

Harry looked at her. _I couldn't think of a better way of explaining why I was so invested in the case,_ he said inside his head.

_We need to think of a logical reason for you to know who your godfather is. Maybe the Dursleys told you?_

_That won't last long under scrutiny. I have the photo album Hagrid gave me last year – there are a couple of wedding pictures in there with Sirius. I could just say I made a deduction._

Hermione nodded slightly, still not quite satisfied. Harry was a quick thinker, but his impatience occasionally caused little problems they didn't need. She'd just have to trust him not to make it necessary to _Obliviate_ the whole Weasley family.

* * *

><p>The daily Occlumency session was going well. Harry was leading everyone through the exercises so that Hermione could test them with her Legilimency. They had barely scratched the surface of combining magic with the thought processes, so Harry didn't think they'd stand any sort of chance against her. Sure enough, near the end of the exercises, she glanced at him and shook her head.<p>

Ron and Neville were only kids, and while Ron was trying much harder than he had in the first year, they still had a lot of work to do. At the very least, Harry wanted them to be able to detect when someone tried to access their mind by the end of the first term. That way, they'd at least be able to look around for the interloper and find whoever's concentrating on them. Of course, Ron and Neville didn't know that was why they were being taught Occlumency. Neville liked it because it let him retreat from situations that made him uncomfortable, and Ron was only trying so hard now because he wanted more self-control. It didn't really matter what their personal reasons were; in the end, they would be protected from Dumbledore's snooping, Snape's invading, and Voldemort's domination.

As the session wound down, a thought struck him. He hadn't met a certain someone in Diagon Alley, nor had he heard Mrs Weasley mention him lately. "Who's our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" he asked. Hermione started, and he got the feeling she hadn't realised that particular difference.

"I'm… not sure," she said slowly, furrowing her brow.

"Well don't be too put-off," chuckled Ron. "There are bound to be _some_ things you don't know."

"My gran said she heard Dumbledore sent for someone outside Britain," said Neville. "Probably couldn't find anyone here who wanted the job after what happened to Quirrell."

"Probably," Harry muttered. Why had Dumbledore chosen someone other than Lockhart? The Defence Against the Dark Arts booklist should have been a giveaway, but he just hadn't been thinking about it. Who was it? The jinx on the position was still in place, so whoever it was wouldn't be able to hold it for more than a year, but it was still weird to think it was someone other than Lockhart. Lupin, maybe?

"So how do you guys think we're doing?" asked Ron. "I mean, we've been practicing pretty much every day for the whole month, we must've made some progress."

"You're both getting better by the day, but Occlumency is difficult, and it will take time for your shields to develop," said Hermione absently, probably still thinking about the new Defence teacher.

Neville frowned. "How can you tell how strong our shields are? They're in our heads, aren't they?"

Harry leaned backwards and rested on his elbows in the grass, content to let Hermione contend with the foot in her mouth. She gave him a sharp look before responding. "I've been learning Legilimency to test your strength."

"You… wait, really?" choked Neville.

Ron's ears were pink. "Just to refresh my memory," he said conversationally, "That's the one that lets you read minds, right?" Hermione nodded. "So… you've been reading our minds to test our Occlumency?"

"I can test your shields without actually going inside," she said prissily. "I don't just spend all day rooting through your thoughts and memories, believe me." Ron and Neville looked slightly relieved, though they tried not to show it, but Harry could see the phrasing of her words left her a lot of room to move without technically lying. Not for the first time, he wondered just how often she read other people's minds.

"Have you gotten good enough to read Harry's mind yet?" asked Ron.

Hermione shrugged. "If he lets me, yes."

"_Lets_ you?" Neville turned to Harry in shock. "Why on earth would you do that? It's your _mind!_"

Harry sat up with a sigh. "It's Hermione," he said simply. "I trust her with everything." He felt a spike of affection appear in his mind and pointedly avoided looking in Hermione's direction.

"Yeah, but still… isn't it weird?" Ron made a face.

"I'm used to it."

"How long have you been, uh, sharing your thoughts?"

Hermione got to her feet. "Alright, that's enough questions for today, students," she said, brushing twigs off her skirt.

"Just as well," said Neville, "I think we had an eavesdropper." He nodded at some of the trees nearby, and Harry turned in time to see a flash of red hair.

"Ginny," Ron growled. "She's always getting into other people's business."

"Do you think she heard anything about Legilimency?" asked Hermione, biting her lip.

"If she did, Mum and Dad will know in a few seconds."

"Fantastic."

But if Ginny did tell Mr and Mrs Weasley anything, they didn't bring it up at dinner, and Harry and Hermione were allowed on their usual evening walk through the orchard. The sun was about to set, so they didn't have a lot of time to work with, but Harry kept a determinedly casual pace. Hermione had mentally filled him in over dinner of the fact that Ginny had noticed their Apparition last night. Harry knew there was more to the story, but Hermione hadn't gone on.

With that in mind, they were very careful to pick out a place in the orchard that was completely out of sight of Ginny's window. Harry took them to the Hollow, where they immediately set about going through the files on the table.

"Here it is: Dolores Umbridge," said Hermione. After a quick scan, she laughed humourlessly. "There's nothing to blackmail her with. Apparently Lucius would just ask for a favour and she'd go along with it because they both wanted the same things."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," Harry muttered. "We need to stop her from pressuring the others into dropping Pettigrew's trial."

"I think there's only one way to do it without killing her," Hermione said cautiously. Umbridge might be almost a Death Eater, but she wasn't a target. If they started including non-Death Eaters in their assassinations, where would it end? Would they eventually go after every corrupt Ministry official? Every pure-blood supremacist? No, that wasn't what they were here for.

"The Imperius Curse," said Harry resolutely. "We'll need a way of contacting her to give orders once the curse is in place, too."

"Just like when Draco sent orders to Madam Rosmerta in our sixth year."

"Exactly."

"I did come up with the fake galleon communication idea in the first place, so I think it's time we reclaim it for a good purpose." Hermione coughed. "Good in the broad sense, that is."

"Where does Umbridge live?"

"London. Quite a nice place, too, though I suspect she wishes she had somewhere older and more prestigious." She showed him the picture on the file.

They prepared their Disillusionment Charms and held hands. A moment later, they stood before a gated house that was almost as tall as the Burrow. It dwarfed the houses beside it and looked to be of finer craftsmanship too. The street was quiet, but there were noises from the surrounding homes that spoke of people settling down to dinner with their families.

Harry began delving and quickly found some familiar spells. It seemed Umbridge had based her defences on those used on Malfoy manor, though hers were weaker and not nearly as old. They wouldn't post much of a threat, and Harry could feel to his right that Hermione was already working on breaking through them silently.

Suddenly, there was a _pop_ just outside the gate, and Dolores Umbridge, pink coat and all, appeared. She raised her wand, likely to unlock the gate, when Harry's Imperius Curse reached her, tethering her mind to his will.

_I forgot she'd be coming home from work around this time,_ Hermione's voice said apologetically.

_Don't worry about it. At least we don't have to go inside._

Umbridge remained frozen with her wand drawn, waiting for orders. Harry felt a sick little thrill at the feeling.

_Does she have any coins on her? _asked Hermione.

Umbridge drew a little pink purse out and flicked a galleon over her shoulder into Hermione's waiting hands.

_Give me a moment._

Harry kept watch on the windows of the Umbridge residence, as well as the street around them. There didn't appear to be any sign of someone watching, but then, it was foolish to assume safety at a time like this.

Two coins shot over to Umbridge and nestled inside her purse.

_I've given her the real coin and a copy we can send orders to using this other copy. I've never performed a Protean Charm so quickly before!_ Hermione's mental voice sounded excited.

Harry didn't get side-tracked. _I'll tell her to stop pressuring the others about dropping the Pettigrew trial and to check her coin frequently for further instructions. Sound good?_

_Yes, I think that's alright. If I think of any loopholes, we can update the spell tomorrow night. But once we're back at Hogwarts, we'll have to rely solely on the coin to control her._

Harry sent the instructions and watched as Umbridge calmly continued where she left off, opening the gate and entering her house. Hopefully it would be enough to keep Sirius safe for a little longer.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The group dynamic is a little weird this time around. They've managed to avoid most of Ron's inferiority complex by accidentally forcing him to become closer to Neville, who is on the same level; and by being so far above him in skill level that he doesn't think of Harry or Hermione as competitors, more like freaks of nature (in a good way, of course).**

**This leads to its own problems, which we saw a bit of in this chapter. Because Harry is so far above Ron, Ron finds himself seeking validation from Harry - hence his absurd comment about Neville's present being better than the cake Ron sent Harry. They're going through a weird time together, and Ron and Neville are going to grow differently than they did originally because of this.**

**Jeez, it's not often I actually put proper notes down here, is it? Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	12. Chapter 11: Year Two

**Chapter 11: Year Two**

The last days at the Burrow were full of half-hearted packing from most members of the Weasley family, with the exception of Ginny, who, despite her continuing barely-concealed hatred of Hermione, couldn't stay angry enough to hide her excitement – and nervousness. Harry had accidentally overheard several conversations between Mrs Weasley and Ginny, usually kept hushed to keep the others from picking on her.

"What if I'm not good at magic?" whispered Ginny.

"You only get out what you put in, dear," Mrs Weasley replied patiently. "If you pay attention and study hard, you'll do fine."

"What if I'm not in Gryffindor?"

"We'll love you all the same, but really, there hasn't been a Weasley out of Gryffindor for several generations. I don't think you have to worry."

Ginny noticed Harry at that moment and briskly left the room. _At least she doesn't run at the sight of me anymore._ He helped himself to a glass of water. How were they going to deal with Ginny at school? He'd assumed she'd join the advance class alongside Luna, who was also starting this year, but it was becoming doubtful. Spending time being instructed by her crush and his girlfriend was probably Ginny's worst nightmare. A faint stab of guilt made him grimace, but he breathed deeply and let it fade away. This was the future he chose, and he had to accept that.

"Are you alright dear?" asked Mrs Weasley.

Harry realised he'd been drinking from an empty glass for thirty seconds. "Oh, yeah. I was just thinking – you won't have to worry about Ginny at school. We'll all look out for her, no matter what house she's in."

Mrs Weasley chuckled as she cleaned a pot. "I know dear, believe me. You four are about the fiercest friends I've ever seen."

"We've tried to include her – well, Hermione and I have – but... you know."

"I do." She looked around and lowered her voice. "You're being very kind, dear. I know it's a little uncomfortable listening to her insult Hermione whenever she thinks you're not listening, and you are very good at pretending to be oblivious, so I have to thank you for being so mature about it."

"Mature about what?" he grinned, and Mrs Weasley returned to scrubbing with a pleased smile.

Harry left the kitchen and almost bumped into Hermione, who was smirking in a familiar way. Her lips were suddenly against his, but before he could recoil, she was turning away. "One hundred pounds," she whispered, before striding primly upstairs.

Harry was so off-guard that it took a good ten seconds for him to start moving again. He'd forgotten about the wager they'd made on his birthday. She wanted him to change his 'no-snogging' rule by the end of the year, and was clearly willing to use underhanded methods to achieve her goal. Harry pulled himself together and joined Ron and Neville in the living room. They were flipping through their new school books. Harry was still surprised by their combined focus on preparing for school. At times, it seemed as though Ron was about to complain, but his face would suddenly look relaxed and he wouldn't say a word. Harry didn't need magic to know they were using Occlumency as a study aid in much the same way Harry had used it to assist Hermione with her Time calculations.

"This Defence Against the Dark Arts book is way more advanced than the one we had last year," said Ron. "I hope the new teacher ends up a bit better than Quirrell."

"I think the bar has been set pretty low," replied Neville.

"Look at you two bookworms," said Harry as he dropped into an armchair. "This year, Hermione and I can copy off you."

"You've both probably memorised the whole thing already," Ron said absently.

"One hundred pounds," Neville hissed.

Harry started. "What?"

The boys started laughing. "Hermione told us to say that to you in a weird voice," grinned Neville. "What does it mean?"

"Nothing. It means absolutely nothing," Harry said darkly.

* * *

><p>Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was as crowded as expected. The Weasley family, along with Harry, Hermione, and Neville, made their own little crowd as they shuffled towards the train. Harry spotted Luna saying goodbye to her father and felt a jolt of happiness. Slowly, they were getting the group back together.<p>

There hadn't been any further developments on the Pettigrew trial, indeed, it had left the headlines entirely in the absence of new information. Hermione reported that the coins appeared to be working, and for now Umbridge was following her usual routine. Harry adjusted his bracers thoughtfully. Maybe once Sirius was safe, they'd be able to make an exception to the 'kill Death Eaters and Dark creatures only' rule. She really was an abhorrent person, after all.

"Are you expecting trouble?" whispered Ron as they climb on board the train.

Harry forced himself to stop adjusting his bracers. "It's a habit of mine."

The four of them found an empty compartment and stowed their trunks. "Hopefully Malfoy won't give us any trouble," Neville said with a grunt as he shoved his trunk away.

"I don't think he will. And if he does, we'll go easy on him," said Hermione. "He lost his father a month ago, after all."

Neville nodded in understanding, but Ron snorted. "Doesn't mean he should be allowed to get away with being a twat."

"I'm not saying we should let him walk all over us. We'll just give him a bit of leeway," Harry said firmly.

As it happened, the only person to enter their compartment was Ginny.

"I couldn't find anywhere else," she mumbled as Harry and Neville lifted her trunk.

She was forced to sit right between Harry and Hermione, which made the rest of the ride uncomfortable. When the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station, the group leapt to their feet in a hurry to escape the compartment.

As the second-years were led into the castle, Harry spotted Draco Malfoy near the back of the group. The usually-smug boy had bags under his eyes and stared straight ahead, not even noticing Harry. Crabbe and Goyle still followed him, but they kept giving each other unsure glances. The group of Slytherins altogether seemed a bit muted by the silence of their most outspoken member.

In the Great Hall, Harry led the way to some seats closer to the staff table than usual. Not only would Ginny have some friendly faces to sit beside once she was sorted, but he and Hermione would be able to get a closer look at the new Defence teacher.

"At least she's not wearing a turban," said Neville. His cheeks went pink at Hermione's raised eyebrow. "You know, so she can't be hiding a second face."

"What do you think, Harry?" said Ron, peering up at the staff table. "Evil or not?"

A woman with curly red hair sat beside Snape near the Slytherin table. She appeared to be younger than most of the teachers and had a pointed nose and high cheekbones. As Harry watched her, she fiddled with a napkin, looking as though she wished she was anywhere but there.

Harry had no idea who she was. Her affiliations, true loyalties, abilities, and secrets were unknown to him. In short, she was a wildcard. Hopefully she'd turn out to be a decent teacher and nothing else, but he wasn't about to make such a foolish assumption when there was so much at stake.

"We'll need to wait and see," he said out loud.

"She looks like she doesn't want to be here," Neville mused.

"Quirrell looked like a nervous wreck," Ron pointed out.

"Fair call." Neville's eyes narrowed as he re-examined the woman.

The Sorting soon began before they could discuss her any further, and Harry impatiently sat through the name-calling as each student took their place. He was outwardly friendly to every new face that sat beside them, but inside he was bursting for Dumbledore to begin his announcements. Ginny found her seat between Ron and the twins, her face bright red from the cheering of her new house. The brothers were surprisingly kind to her, with Ron patting her on the back. "None of us ever doubted, Gin." When Harry offered a congratulatory grin, she sunk into her chair.

Once the last name was called and McGonagall had returned to her seat, Dumbledore rose and held his hands up for silence. "Welcome to all of our new students, and an apology to our old ones, because once again a few announcements stand between us and a lavish feast. First of all, Hogwarts extends its warmest welcome to our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Professor Madeline Mallen." He gestured to Mallen, who sat up straight and gave a small smile to the students. There was some scattered applause, the most enthusiastic of which came from the older male students. McGonagall narrowed her eyes disapprovingly.

"We wish her the best of luck," Dumbledore continued. He waited for the final whistles to die down. "On a much more serious note, I'm sure many of you are aware of the recent prison break." The Hall was silent now. "For those who aren't, a very dangerous man known as Sirius Black is currently on the run. To ensure your safety, all entrances to the school grounds will be guarded by Aurors at all times." There was some murmuring at that, but this time Dumbledore didn't wait. "In addition to the protection of the Aurors, I would ask each and every student to exercise reasonable caution. But," the headmaster smiled suddenly, "To live in fear is to not live at all. We are safe, and hungry, so let's dispense with suspense and tuck in!" At his word, the tables filled with food and drink and the students were soon too caught up in the merry stupor to think about escaped prisoners.

Harry ate heartily, but his eyes kept returning to the new teacher. "Madeline Mallen," he said between mouthfuls. "Have you heard of her, Hermione?"

"No. And I think we shouldn't bother theorising until we've had at least one class with her. Who knows, maybe she'll be normal?" Hermione said hopefully. Harry hoped his flat look would serve as a reply.

After dessert, as the Prefects led their assigned years up to Gryffindor tower, Harry and Hermione were approached by a number of students about the self-defence class.

"I know we haven't even been back here one night yet, but I'd like to sign up as soon as I can," said Seamus Finnigan. "All this Sirius Black stuff makes me want to sharpen my spellwork, y'know?"

Others told similar stories. "Mum barely let us come back to school with that psycho on the loose," Parvati Patil confided as they climbed the Grand Staircase. "Padma and I convinced her that with you and Dumbledore here, we'd be safer than at home, but I think she'd also like it if we were learning to defend ourselves too."

Harry blinked. "You told your mum you'd be safer because _I'm_ here?"

"Sure." Parvati shrugged. "Everyone knows about your duels with Hermione." She looked around quickly before leaning closer. "Are you two still together? My friend told me to ask."

"Yes." Harry raised an eyebrow and Parvati's cheeks went dark red. She slipped away but was replaced by the next applicant.

"Hi Harry!" said Colin Creevey, grinning broadly as he held his camera to his chest to stop it bouncing. "Can I call you Harry? Or do you prefer Professor Potter?" Ron and Neville sniggered nearby. "I heard you teach a class, so I'm not sure."

"Just Harry, thanks," Harry replied tiredly. "It's a student-run self-defence class. Hermione and I run it together."

"Wow! Was that Hermione you were just talking to?" Colin nearly tripped over as he spun about, searching for Parvati. "Is she your girlfriend? Was that why she was blushing?"

"No, no, and I don't know." Harry quickened his pace as the Fat Lady portrait came into view. His stomach was full and his eyelids were heavy, and now he had very little patience for anything that wasn't his four-poster bed.

The Gryffindors piled into the common-room chatting and yawning. Harry dodged a couple of other queries regarding the self-defence class before finding Hermione, who looked to have been through the same thing.

"Looks like we'll need to draft a new curriculum sooner than expected," she said with a breathless laugh. "Escaped prisoners seem to get everyone into the fighting spirit."

"Tell me about it." Harry noticed there were a couple of people watching them talk. "Is it just me, or do you feel a little more noticed than usual?" he muttered.

"We did have a rather legendary first year. The story has probably been blown out of proportion by now." She yawned widely before pecking him on the lips. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Sleep tight." There was a flash and click of a camera. Harry rubbed his eyes. "Colin, please don't do that without asking."

"Sorry, Harry!"

"That's Professor Potter to you," said Ron.

"Don't encourage him," Harry growled.

* * *

><p>The first day of school began with a lot of complaining. Students who had become used to sleeping in were now forced to be up and ready by seven o'clock. Even Hermione kept yawning and rubbing her eyes as they went down for breakfast.<p>

"It's Wednesday," she said blearily, "Which means our first Defence Against the Dark Arts class is this afternoon. I'm hoping," she paused for another yawn, "I'll be aware enough to actually notice the new teacher."

"Don't count on it," said Harry. He'd spent a good five minutes struggling to strap his bracers on. He wasn't sure if they were allowed to be worn at school, but until a teacher noticed, he wasn't going to say anything.

"I hope the Slytherins have calmed down a bit over the holidays," said Neville. "People are already on edge because of Sirius Black, we don't need duels in the corridors again."

"If I'm honest, I'm kinda looking forward to my next duel," Ron admitted. "I know I'm not that great at Occlumency yet, but I think the exercises are helping me focus better."

"We'll all probably be rusty after the holidays, remember," Neville cautioned.

"It'll only take one or two self-defence classes to get back up to form," said Harry. "But yes, in the meantime, let's not go looking for fights."

Ron flushed. "I didn't say I was going to."

Double Herbology served as an adequate wake-up call with the introduction of baby mandrakes, and Transfiguration forced everyone to focus instead of nodding off. McGonagall was just as merciless to Harry and Hermione as she had been the previous year, assigning them two extra essays straight off the bat.

"That was brutal," said Ron as they went to lunch. "On the first day, no less."

"As long as the other teachers don't follow suit, we'll be fine," said Hermione. "And we still have to write up the new curriculum for the self-defence class, Harry."

"We'll do it now," Harry declared. "I also think we need a better name for it, since so many people are joining."

"The Defence Association?" Hermione suggested innocently.

"No, that doesn't feel very original. What about… the Hogwarts Defence Team? After all, this is about students feeling safer from Sirius Black and other outside threats."

"I like it," Ron nodded, getting into it. "Members can be called 'Defenders' or something – like how we're the Watchers of the Stone."

"Were," corrected Neville. "We don't really have a stone to watch anymore."

"We'll worry about our official titles later," Hermione said with amusement. "For now, the Hogwarts Defence Team seems like a good name."

Lunch was spent hastily putting a class outline together that could accommodate new students while challenging the old ones. They decided to make the first half-hour of each class revision of basic spells so that any newcomers could follow along. The second half-hour would be where new spells would be introduced and practiced.

Their enthusiasm was thoroughly beaten down by a gruelling double Potions with Snape. When the period finally ended, emerging from the dungeons felt like reaching the surface of a very slimy lake and breathing fresh air. The only upside had been that Malfoy hadn't said a word during the entire class. He'd sat with Goyle and Crabbe, but they hadn't made one attempt to inconvenience the Gryffindors. It was as though Malfoy was just tuned out of everything.

_Fine by me._

Outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, the Gryffindors were muttering excitedly. After the lacklustre performance of Quirrell the previous year, everyone was hoping for an exciting new selection of monsters and spells to learn about.

The excitement began to wane about fifteen minutes after the class was supposed to have begun.

"Do you think she's lost? It _is_ her first day after all," suggested Parvati.

"Maybe this is some kind of test," said Neville.

Harry opened the door and peeked inside. Professor Mallen was asleep at her desk. He withdrew his head. "She's asleep."

"You're kidding." Ron guffawed.

"Have a look."

Ron poked his head in for a second. "Brilliant. What do we do now?"

Harry smiled. "Everyone stay quiet." He led the way into the room and sat at a desk with Hermione. Ron and Neville took an adjacent one. Once the whole class was silently seated, Harry drew his wand.

"You're a cruel person," Hermione whispered with a giggle.

A loud _pop_ reverberated through the room from Harry's wand. Mallen sat bolt upright, looking around with wide eyes under her bobbing red curls. Harry maintained a straight face with difficulty. Upon noticing she had a full class in front of her, Mallen blinked a few times and cleared her throat.

"Uh, hello class," she said hesitantly. Her voice was deep and smooth – and American. _Neville's gran was right: Dumbledore sent away for a teacher outside of Britain._ "You're my second-year class, right?"

"Yes, professor," said Hermione, as the rest of the class were looking too amused or bewildered to answer.

"Okay then." Mallen cleared her throat again. "I'm Professor Madeline Mallen. I'll be, you know, teaching you." The classroom was silent. She sighed and sank back into her chair. "Get your books out and read chapter one."

They did as instructed (with a couple of disappointed sighs) and soon the silence was only punctuated by page-turning. Harry barely noticed the words, he was busy sneaking glances at Mallen when she was looking away. It wasn't difficult; she spent a good ten minutes daydreaming while staring at the ceiling.

Hermione raised her hand. "If you're done reading, just read the next chapter as well," said Mallen after glancing at her.

"Please, professor – are we going to be learning any practical magic?"

"Practical magic? Like what?" Mallen tore her eyes away from an apparently fascinating spot on the wall.

"Like defence techniques that can be applied to the Dark Arts," Hermione replied. Harry wagered he was the only one in the room who knew she was borderline mocking the teacher.

Mallen shrugged. "Okay." She stood up and drew her wand. "Everyone get up." The class shot to their feet. "Here's a spell that can be handy in a bunch of situations. _Incendio!_" A jet of fire shot from her wand parallel to the blackboard. A few people gasped. "You can scare off a lot of Dark creatures with this, or kill them if they're too dumb to run away." Despite the show of magic, Mallen still looked as though she was only mildly interested in the class. "Try it yourselves, if you want. Just don't point your wands at anything you don't want to burn to a crisp." She sat back down.

The Gryffindors looked at each other nervously. Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione. _What the heck is she thinking?_

_I don't know,_ came Hermione's voice. _She knows Occlumency; I can't see a thing._

Harry pointed his wand at the blackboard. "_Incendio._" A great torrent of fire as thick as a tree burst from his wand and slammed into the blackboard, leaving a large scorched circle. A moment later, Hermione produced the same result. Neville and Ron were next, though it took them a few tries to get it right, and soon everyone was shooting little streaks of fire at the blackboard. Mallen seemed unconcerned about the damage being done as she fiddled with her wand.

"That's some good work," Mallen said cheerfully, yet still disinterestedly. "I think we can wrap this up for today."

And then she got up and left the classroom. The Gryffindors packed their books away in confusion. "There's still ten minutes left before the period ends," Hermione said angrily. "I hope her long-term plan takes this inefficiency into account."

"I liked her," said Ron happily. "I've been looking for an excuse to try out my new wand like that anyway."

"Me too," agreed Neville.

"She barely seemed to care about the class at all," Harry mused as they left the classroom.

"Why'd she take a teaching job if she didn't want to teach?" asked Ron. "Maybe this was just a bad day. She'll probably be better next time."

"Her accent, did you hear it?" Neville grinned. "I bet that's why she was tired and uninterested. She must've arrived from America recently."

"That's a good enough theory for now," said Hermione.

There was a disturbance further down the corridor, where some Slytherin first-year boys were tossing around what looked to be a strange necklace. A young Luna Lovegood stood between them, just watching mutely. Harry was marching over to them before he even realised what he was doing.

"Hey!" he called, "What do you think you're doing?" Harry was vaguely aware of Hermione, Ron, and Neville taking their places beside him. It was the same formation as the one in the Mirror of Erised's chamber last year.

The Slytherins gave them one glance before dropping the necklace and bolting. Harry picked it up and handed it back to Luna. "Here you go. Sorry about those twats."

"Thanks," said Luna, putting the necklace back on. It appeared to be made of dried fruit. "I didn't think I was going to get it back. They were getting frustrated because I wasn't trying to stop them."

"Start early, don't they?" muttered Ron.

"They're only a year younger than us," reminded Hermione.

"A year makes a big difference."

Harry smiled at Luna. It was weird being only slightly taller than her. "I'm Harry, by the way. What's your name?"

"Luna Lovegood." She cocked her head. "Does your scar still hurt?" Harry heard a sudden intake of breath from Ron and Neville.

"Only when Voldemort's around," he replied.

She nodded as if that was the answer she expected. "I think those boys will get revenge on me later," she said calmly.

"Me too. You can hang around with us if you want. They won't try anything then."

"Thank you." Luna smiled, and she looked far from dreamy at the moment. "But I only have classes with other first-years."

"My sister is a first year," said Ron. "Ginny Weasley. I'm Ron, by the way. She's pretty nervous about school, so I bet she'd love someone to talk to in her year."

Neville and Hermione introduced themselves next. Luna was smiling brightly at each of them. "I know who Ginny is. I think I'll start sitting next to her."

"And if anyone gives you trouble, just find one of us and we'll take care of it," said Neville with a proud nod.

After Luna had skipped away, Ron immediately rounded on Harry. "Not that it wasn't the right thing to do and all, but what was that about? I mean, I'm not the only one who thought she was a bit odd, am I?"

"She _was_ wearing fruit around her neck," said Neville tentatively.

Harry shrugged. "Odd or not, nobody deserves to get bullied. She seemed nice enough, anyway, and if she and Ginny become friends, we've solved two problems in less than a minute."

Indeed, by dinner, Ginny and Luna were chatting happily, their chairs pushed back so they could talk despite being at different tables. The two would occasionally look over at Harry and his friends, probably talking about the bullies from earlier.

"Not quite," said Hermione under her breath. Ron and Percy were arguing while Neville tried to fit half a chicken into his mouth.

"Huh?"

"I had a peek at their thoughts when I was walking up the table." She nibbled on a bit of broccoli innocently.

"Sounds morally dubious," Harry replied flatly, but not forcefully. He'd suspected for a while now that Hermione used her Legilimency however she pleased.

Hermione shrugged and smiled. "Luna has a crush on you."

"You're kidding." She shook her head. "Bloody hell. Why?"

"Oh, come on, Harry. You saved her from bullies and then gave her a new friend – her first friend. Not to mention, you pull off the whole 'hero' thing so naturally, I'd be surprised if she didn't have a crush on you."

"What 'hero' thing?" Harry hissed.

Hermione gave him a very patronising look. "You know exactly what I mean. Anyway, she and Ginny are mainly gossiping about you. Ginny wants Luna to help her drive you and I apart. Luna isn't quite infatuated enough to go so far, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time."

"You're enjoying this too much." Harry cut his steak roughly.

"And you're not enjoying this enough." Hermione sounded a bit exasperated. "Come on, Harry, it's just a little fun."

"First Parvati, now Luna and god-knows who else… That's a little too much attention for my taste."

Hermione giggled and lowered her voice. "It's better than being accused of being the heir of Slytherin, don't you think?"

"Good point." Harry smiled. "I suppose I have been taking things a bit too seriously. I'm just a bit on edge because of Sirius."

_He's a capable wizard in his own right, Harry, _Hermione said in his mind. _Have faith in him._

"Me too," she said out loud.

* * *

><p>The first weekend of term arrived, giving Harry and Hermione precious time to work on their growing pile of Transfiguration essays, as well as the outline for the newly-branded Hogwarts Defence Team. They'd postponed it until now after realising they should probably put more than a single lunchbreak's worth of effort into something so important.<p>

Harry sat in an armchair beside a desk, occasionally nudging Gryf the pig away from his shoelaces. "I forgot all about Gryf," Hermione had said on their second night. "I'm glad the house-elves kept feeding him," she'd added in a quieter, guiltier voice.

"Are you two almost ready to start the Defence Team?" Ron asked eagerly, putting down _Quidditch Through the Ages._

"More or less," Hermione replied absently as she re-read the outline. "Harry, I really think the Patronus Charm is too advanced for the class. We should save it for next year, at the very least."

"Anyone can learn it if they try hard enough," Harry replied. "Just put it near the end of the year. By that point, the people who aren't serious will have stopped coming."

"If you say so." She scratched something with her quill. "Well, I think that's about all the work we can do."

"When's the first class?" asked Neville.

"Classes will be in the evenings on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays." Hermione nodded to Harry. "Wood will probably put morning Quidditch practice on the same days."

"Wicked." Ron clapped his hands. "I've been reading this duelling magazine someone left lying around, and there's some stuff I want to try."

"Don't forget, you may only have one essay for Transfiguration, but it still needs to be done," Hermione said firmly.

Rather than groaning or dismissing it, Ron nodded. "I've already made a pretty good start. D'you mind checking my introduction?"

Hermione blinked. "Um, sure. I'd be happy to."

"Harry, can you check mine?" asked Neville.

"Of course." Harry reached over and took the parchment. "You two are getting serious this year, huh?"

Ron and Neville exchanged looks. "It's… actually because of the Occlumency lessons," Neville admitted.

Ron nodded. "We might not have proper shields yet, but the breathing exercises and stuff are really handy for focusing. Last night, I caught myself taking a Charms book to bed. I didn't, of course – it's not healthy to study that much – but the thought was there."

"It gets even better as you become more skilled," Hermione said excitedly as her quill flicked across Ron's parchment.

"But," Harry warned, "It can make you kind of cold and emotionless."

"Really?" Neville frowned. "Can you… demonstrate?"

Harry laughed. "Sure. It might be hard to notice by just looking at me, though." He withdrew behind his Occlumency shields for the first time in weeks, feeling the greyness descend over his mind. His good mood didn't evaporate; it just wasn't relevant anymore.

"No offence, but that's creepy, mate." Ron said, leaning back slightly.

Harry lowered his shields and realised he hadn't blinked in a while. "Yeah, I know. I try not to do it too often," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"It _is_ useful though," Hermione said defensively, handing Neville's essay back. "If you feel overwhelmed or just can't think straight, a little Occlumency can clear everything up."

"Why are you defending it like this?" asked Harry. "You're the one who told me I should find another way to stay calm, like meditation."

Hermione flushed. "Yes, and I stand by that, but that doesn't mean you should dismiss Occlumency entirely. I meant just use it sparingly." Before Harry could say anything else, she turned deliberately to face Ron. "_Anyway,_ your thesis statement is good, but I made a few notes on how to improve the rest of the introduction."

"Cheers," Ron took the essay back and scanned it eagerly. "You crossed out the best part," he said disappointedly.

"You're not supposed to put jokes in there."

Harry finished checking Neville's and gave it back. "Pretty good. I'd probably pad out the start a bit more just to make it look more impressive."

Hermione snatched the essay from Neville irritably. "That's terrible advice," she said, making her own notes and crossing out Harry's.

"But I've always done that!" said Harry.

"That's probably why I'm the top of the class, then, isn't it?"

Ron and Neville laughed, and Hermione looked so cheeky that Harry joined in.

At last, Harry and Hermione left the common-room to deliver the outline to McGonagall. On the way down, Hermione took his hand and led him on a detour on the first floor.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"There's something we should check on while we're alone."

They passed a couple of other students wandering around leisurely, but the traffic ceased as they neared a bathroom. "Oh, bloody hell," Harry muttered.

"It'll only take a second. She might not even be in there." Hermione pulled him inside.

As it happened, Moaning Myrtle wasn't in there, much to Harry's relief. They walked over to the snake-engraved tap that hid the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. "Detection charms, right?" he said, looking at the little snake distastefully.

"That's right. I'm going to tie them to our rings but not Ron and Neville's, since they have no reason to know about this. If it opens, we'll be the first to know – other than the perpetrator, of course."

"What about those marble-rooster Transfiguration traps you were working on?" asked Harry.

Hermione reddened slightly. "I had originally hoped to set them up down in the Chamber itself in order to kill the basilisk the moment it emerged, but we don't know if merely opening the Chamber is enough to wake it up. I don't want to risk accidentally unleashing that thing on the school."

"It'll only wake up to the true heir, won't it?"

"Allegedly, yes, but we just don't know enough about the specifics of its enchanted sleep. I really want to avoid messing with it if we don't have to."

"Alright, fair enough."

Hermione set about concealing some subtle detection charms within the entrance before tying them to the rings. "There," she said with satisfaction as they left the bathroom. "Hopefully, this was a waste of time."

"Considering the diary is buried in my trunk, I think that's a given."

"Yes, well, it's better to be careful."

"It would be even safer back at the Hollow, you know. Just bringing it to school means there's a chance something could happen."

"Oh, shush."

McGonagall admitted them to her office with an air of weariness. "I daresay you'll have your work cut out for you this year," she said as she skimmed the class outline. "Sirius Black has a lot of kids in a dither. The way some of them act, you'd think Black was inside the castle."

"That reminds me, Professor – we've been trying to research Sirius Black, but we can't find any record of his trial," said Hermione.

"That's because he didn't receive one, Miss Granger. Might I ask why you're trying to research him?" McGonagall's eyes flickered to Harry almost imperceptibly.

"Curiosity. So if Sirius didn't get a trial, how did they know he was guilty?"

"Because Muggle witnesses confirmed what had happened."

"So they just trusted what a few Muggles said? Did they perform any sort of forensics on the scene? Did they check Sirius's wand for the spell that supposedly killed those people?"

McGonagall stiffened slightly. "I believe the scene was simple enough to understand upon viewing it, Miss Granger, and I do not appreciate your tone."

"Sorry, Professor, I'm just trying to understand this."

"Suffice it to say that neither the Ministry nor the public wanted Black on the loose for any longer than necessary."

"You believe Pettigrew's story, then?" asked Harry.

"No, Potter, I do not." McGonagall frowned. "I can understand that the spell may have addled his senses, but for so long? And to such a degree that he forgot he was an Animagus and not a real rat? Utter nonsense."

"But if you see the holes in Pettigrew's story, how can you believe the official story about Sirius without hesitation when there are just as many inconsistencies?"

McGonagall looked between them, her eyes narrowed. "It's clear the two of you have an agenda aside from curiosity."

"No agenda, Professor," Hermione replied brightly. "Just a healthy discussion."

"Indeed?" McGonagall turned to Harry. "Potter, I will believe the official story about Sirius Black until evidence arises to disprove it."

"I thought it was 'innocent until proven guilty'?" he replied politely.

"Eleven years ago, you wouldn't find a single person in Britain who didn't believe Black was guilty. Thirteen people were apparently dead from a single curse, and the wizarding world was already shaken from the recent atrocities. They rushed Black to Azkaban, perhaps without investigating as thoroughly as they would today, but those were darker times, when such mercies could not always be afforded." McGonagall sighed. "You must understand, both of you, that those events occurred immediately after the First Wizarding World. Eleven years of constant terror ended with two final acts of evil, the first of which gave you that scar, and the second of which saw Sirius imprisoned. The Ministry was frayed and worn, and they had a country to rebuild. People simply did the best they could."

They were quiet for a few moments. "I understand, Professor," said Harry quietly. "But it's time for mistakes that were made in times of war to be rectified. Black deserves a proper trial."

"Perhaps you are correct, Potter, but I am in no position to lobby for such a thing."

Hermione stood, as did Harry. "Thank you for the discussion, Professor. Your insight is invaluable," she said. "If the outline is acceptable, we will leave you to your weekend."

McGonagall copied the outline with a flick of her wand and handed the original back to Hermione. "You are welcome, Miss Granger. It is rare that I can have such a mature discussion with two twelve-year-olds."

They left McGonagall's office in good spirits. "I figured McGonagall would be easy enough to convince," said Harry. "She's too smart to let something this big slip past her."

"I hope I didn't come off as too forceful," Hermione said guiltily. "I feel like we sort-of ganged up on her back there."

Harry put his arm around her as they walked. "Well, we _are_ a pretty formidable team." Hermione giggled, but it turned into a choke as they noticed Draco Malfoy coming down the corridor towards them.

Malfoy looked the same as before; he had bags under his eyes and his hair wasn't neatly combed back anymore. Crabbe and Goyle weren't following him anymore, but it was doubtful he'd even noticed their absence.

As they drew nearer, Malfoy's eyes focused and he noticed them with a touch of surprise. Harry nodded slightly. Malfoy glared at them, quickening his pace until they had passed each other. Harry chanced a look over his shoulder, but Malfoy didn't.

Neither Harry nor Hermione said anything until they returned to the common-room.

"I don't think we'll have much trouble from Malfoy this year," said Harry confidentially, re-joining the table the four had appropriated for studying.

"Did you run into him?" asked Ron, putting his quill aside and flexing his fingers. There looked to be another four paragraphs on his essay.

"Yeah. He barely noticed us until we were right next to him, and then all we got was a glare."

"Must be hard to bully people without his father's influence," Neville said with grim satisfaction.

"Anyway, McGonagall approved the outline. I'm going to put the schedule up on the notice board now," said Harry. He crossed the room, acutely aware of the eyes following him.

"Whatcha doing, Harry?" called Seamus.

"Defence Team schedule," Harry replied, and suddenly people were converging on the noticeboard, leaning over his shoulder as he pinned the schedule.

"Are you sure three times a week will be enough, Harry?" asked Lavender Brown anxiously.

"Tell you what, we'll make it a daily class if Sirius Black shows up in person," Harry replied dryly.

"_Hogwarts Defence Team?_ That's kinda… cool," said Dean.

"Not a bad idea, this Defence Team," said Fred.

"Especially after finding that little rat in our own house," agreed George.

There was a flash of white, and Colin Creevey lowered his camera. "Harry! Are first-years allowed to join?"

"Of course," said Harry. "We were first-years when we started it, remember."

Colin looked absolutely delighted, accidentally taking another photo while bouncing on the spot.

Parvati took Harry's arm as he tried to escape the crowd. "Are you planning on making badges or things that members can wear? Padma and I are in the writing club, and we got a fourth-year to make these for us," she flashed a small, quill-shaped badge near her collar.

"Er, we haven't made any plans to, but we'll keep it in mind." He tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip.

"Because, you know, I could help you design it. We could research proper symbolism and stuff together."

Harry couldn't help but smile at her gall. "I'll see what Hermione thinks and get back to you." She let him go, her cheeks rosy. When he re-joined his friends, Hermione was smirking.

"Am I going to have to duel Parvati for you?" she whispered.

"Funny," he replied flatly. Ron and Neville sniggered, though they pretended to be proofreading their essays when he scowled at them.

"I've never seen a boy so unhappy to be hit on," Hermione commented casually, as though describing the weather.

"I've never seen a girlfriend so content to watch her boyfriend get hit on," he shot back.

"I can see your thoughts, Harry," she said turning her nose up in a superior way. "I know where your loyalties lie."

"_Now_ do you find it creepy, Harry?" said Neville with a laugh.

The next morning, at breakfast, Harry took a detour over to Luna and Ginny. The former smiled brightly at his approach, while the latter choked on her pumpkin juice.

"Hey Ginny, Luna. Listen, Luna, do you mind posting this schedule on the Ravenclaw common-room noticeboard?"

"I can take you there so you can post it yourself, if you like."

"Sure, that sounds good."

"Do you want to come, Ginny?" she asked. Ginny mumbled something. "Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Luna led the way up to Ravenclaw tower, skipping down corridors and leaping up stairs gracefully. "You know, you'd make a fine duellist," he said as they reached the door with an eagle-shaped knocker. "That's what this schedule is about, by the way. We're holding classes to teach people how to defend themselves."

"I thought so. Everyone talks about the classes that happened last year." Luna waited beside the door, looking at him expectantly.

Harry decided against pretending not to understand the lack of a password. "You want me to answer the riddle?"

"I'm curious about what it will ask you," said Luna. "Professor Flitwick said that it asks riddles that the person knocking will find challenging or interesting. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"Right." Harry rapped the eagle knocker three times.

"Where can we arrive without moving?" asked a cool female voice.

"Tomorrow. We can't move towards it, but we'll get there eventually," Harry replied.

"Well put." The door swung outwards.

"That was a tough one," said Luna as they went inside. "I would have said 'here'."

"The trick was in her use of the word 'arrive'. If we aren't moving through space, we can't arrive anywhere. But we're always moving through time, arriving at each new second, so that had to be the answer," he explained, a little uncomfortable at how relatable the question was.

Luna was smiling widely for some reason as she led him across the dome-shaped Ravenclaw common-room. Several students were sitting at the various desks and couches studying, but it didn't take long for them to notice Harry.

"Harry?" said Cho Chang. "What are you doing here?"

"Hermione and I finished the schedule for the new Defence Team classes," he replied, pinning the sheet of parchment to the board. That seemed to get almost everyone's attention, and, much like the Gryffindor common-room, he was soon swamped by people trying to get a look at the schedule.

"No classes on the weekend? That's a bit inefficient, Potter," said Anthony, sounding every bit as self-righteous as he had when spraying spells everywhere in the self-defence class last year.

"It's not the number of lessons, it's the quality," said Harry, and Anthony's neck reddened slightly.

Harry managed to slip out of the crowd with Luna. "Thanks for taking me up here."

"You're welcome. We should go back down to breakfast now. I can hear your stomach."

Harry chuckled as they left the common-room. "Have you thought about signing up for the Defence Team? I guarantee you'll be able to cast Shield Charms and Stunning Spells by Christmas."

"I want to, but only if Ginny does as well. She's scared of looking silly in front of you."

"Even sillier than a second-year teaching seventh-years how to duel?"

Luna actually giggled a little. "I think I'll tell her that."

* * *

><p>The first meeting of the Hogwarts Defence Team came to a close. Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. It had been a while since he and Hermione had one of their duels, and they were feeling it.<p>

"We definitely need to start dancing again tonight," Harry said firmly. "Our endurance was increasing last year, but we've lost a bit of ground over the summer."

"Agreed," panted Hermione, clutching a stitch.

The turnout was the largest they'd ever experienced, despite the schedule only being posted on the weekend. They'd gotten Cedric Diggory to post the schedule in the Hufflepuff common-room, and with the Ravenclaws already informed, the only house that didn't show up was Slytherin.

"We have to get the schedule on their notice board somehow. It'll be discriminatory if we don't at least try to invite them," said Hermione.

"If we knew any friendly Slytherins, we could ask them to do it."

"We could always just break into their common-room," Ron suggested plainly, passing cups of water out to other sweaty duellists-in-training. Neville sat grinning nearby; he'd had ample opportunity to try out his new wand with Ron, and they were both feeling the increase in synergy.

"There's no need to antagonise them."

"Hey, Harry," said Parvati. Padma was with her this time, smiling conspiratorially.

"Hey, Parvati," Harry said cautiously, looking between them.

"Have you thought about our idea to make badges for the Defence Team?"

"Er, not really –"

"Because we've thought up the perfect design," interrupted Padma. "Do you want to see it?"

"Uh, yeah, okay."

They whipped out their notebooks, already open to the right page, and displayed a series of drawings, most of which involving a capital H with a lightning bolt going through it. "The H stands for Hogwarts, obviously, and the lightning stands for you."

"What about Hermione? She started the group along with me."

The girls gave each other exasperated glances. "Then I suppose the H can stand for Hermione, too," allowed Parvati.

"You know, I kinda like it," said Ron. Padma looked at him hopefully. "Maybe the advance class should get, I dunno, a second lightning bolt or something."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione said hurriedly.

"What's the advance class?" asked Padma.

"Harry, Hermione, Neville, and me."

"Oh." The twins exchanged looks. "How do we join?"

"It's not really something you try out for," Neville explained delicately.

"Well how did you join?" demanded Parvati, her 'P' necklace swinging a little.

"Me? I sat next to Harry at breakfast once. Everything kinda snowballed from there."

"How on earth did things 'snowball' by sitting with him during breakfast?"

Neville shrugged and grinned. "Spend enough time with these two geniuses and you'll see what I mean."

"Bloody right," laughed Ron.

"Maybe we will," Padma said testily.

"_Anyway,_" said Harry, "The badge designs are great, but we need more time to think it over."

The twins seemed to recognise a polite dismissal, so they were all smiles before walking away. The classroom was thinning out now as people finished recovering from their sparring matches.

"You're gonna have a fan-club soon if you don't watch out," said Ron.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know what's gotten into people lately." Hermione covered her mouth to hide an obvious smile. "What're you laughing about?"

"If you really want to know, I'm amazed at your ability to be so smart and yet so oblivious."

"Care to explain?"

"Maybe later. In any case, I don't think Ron is in any position to make fun of you, considering the way Padma was looking at him."

"What?" Ron gawked, and Neville choked back laughter.

_I don't remember all this romance back when we were actually twelve, _thought Harry.

_Of course you don't, _replied Hermione's voice. He glared at her.

Quidditch tryouts took place at the end of the week, and Harry had no trouble taking the Seeker position again, as nobody else tried for it. Wood was somehow still riding the high from winning the Quidditch Cup last year, but made it clear that it wouldn't stop them from training harder than ever.

"We pulled through in the end, last year, but we can't expect it to happen again. Slytherin will be foaming at the mouth because we broke their winning streak, so we'll need to really knuckle down and stay in top form," he declared after the first practice session, while Harry and the rest of the team were still bleary-eyed from getting up so early.

"Harry, a word," said Wood as they walked back up to the castle. Harry slowed his pace. "I know you're taking on extra responsibilities with that Defence Team business, so I'm a little worried that you won't be able to give training your all."

"I managed to balance it pretty well last year," said Harry.

"Yeah, but you weren't training half the bloody school back then."

"Hermione is training them too. If I have to give more time to Quidditch, she'll cover for me. Don't worry about it."

"Alright, but remember that the team comes first." Wood paused. "The Quidditch team, that is. _Our_ team."

"I get it." Harry forced himself not to smile.

"Good man." Wood slapped his shoulder.

Studying in the evenings had become a group affair, much to Hermione's delight. Ron and Neville were continuing their Occlumency training, and as such were becoming better at staying focused. Harry still couldn't help but stare in disbelief whenever he noticed Ron working through homework of his own volition. Neville was doing well in that regard as well, but he was really starting to shine in the Defence Team classes. The new wand was serving him well, though it did cause him to gush about it to anybody nearby.

Professor Madeline Mallen was proving to be an interesting – if occasionally perplexing – Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Half the time, she seemed completely uninterested in teaching them anything of value, and the other half she taught them in such a haphazard way that Harry began to question her sanity.

"Doxies can be tricky little shits," Mallen said one afternoon, lazily twirling her wand in her fingers while resting her feet on her desk. The more lessons they had, the less she seemed to care about how a professor should behave. She'd stopped looking anxious most of the time, which had the effect of making Ron and Neville less suspicious of her.

Most of the class giggled at the swear, but Hermione looked furious. "Completely unprofessional," she hissed to Harry.

"When I was a kid, I used to knock them out by throwing rocks, then hang them upside down from the gutters to ward off any other nests thinking of moving in." Mallen frowned. "Sounds a bit psychopathic now that I say it out loud, but hey, I learned my lesson in the end. Turns out Doxies have some kind of pheromone that they release when in trouble to attract other Doxies to help them out. Ended up building a couple of nests in the gutters and attacking anyone who tried to leave the house."

Mallen stood up and raised her wand. "Anyway, this is the spell my Dad used to get rid of them when he got home from his business trip. _Incendio!_" She shot a strong burst of fire parallel to the blackboard, scorching the stone wall. "You'll notice it's the same spell I taught you in our first class together. My point is that the simplest spells often have the most uses. Also, with enough fire, you can make most problems go away."

"Your Dad burned all the Doxies?" repeated Hermione. "You said they were nesting in your gutters."

"Right." Mallen sat down and put her feet back up.

Hermione huffed. "So didn't he, I don't know, damage the house?"

"Oh, he got everyone out before he did it."

"But –"

"Homework! This week, uh, research alternative ways of dealing with Doxies."

While rather lax about student safety, even Hermione had to agree that there was nothing overly suspicious about Mallen. "Yet," she added after one of the late-night dance sessions. "There are still plenty of ways she could be up to something."

"Right," said Harry, casting a silencing ward around them. "Personally, I think it's a shame that Voldemort's jinx on her position is still in place. I just hope that whatever stops her from coming back next year isn't deadly."

"She's a strong Occlumens," Hermione said, ignoring him. "That's unusual in itself. We really should do a bit of investigating just to make sure the real Professor Mallen isn't locked in her trunk or something."

Harry snorted. "By the way, what do you want for your birthday?"

Hermione's mood improved suddenly. "Surprise me," she said with a cheeky grin.

"I don't want to spend every moment until your birthday behind my Occlumency shields. Come on, just tell me."

"Hmm…" Hermione tapped her chin. "A little snogging wouldn't be too much to ask for, would it?"

He reached across to flick her nose. "My budget is less than a hundred pounds."

"Oh, very well. I'd like you to make me a spell."

"Oh?" Harry folded his arms. "What kind of spell?"

"Similar to _Homenum Revelio_. I want it to work on creatures as well as people."

"I think there's already a spell that detects living things. You really should keep up with the readings."

It was Hermione's turn to reach over and flick his nose. "I'm not finished. Not only should it detect all living things in a certain area, but it should also make the caster aware of whether they're active or at rest."

Harry had a feeling he knew where she was going with this. "Alright. A detection charm that also tells you if things are awake or asleep. What sort of range should the spell have?"

"It should go far enough that you could, I don't know, stand at the entrance to some huge underground chamber and be able to tell the status of any living beings in there."

"Are you planning on taking up spelunking?" he asked pleasantly.

Hermione gave him an unimpressed look. "I can grant you an extension of a few days if you don't think you can finish it in time."

"It'll be done in time, and not only that, I'll also throw in a bracelet that glows in the presence of sarcasm."

She breathed a laugh despite herself. "Wonderful."

"So are you going to tell me what you were laughing about in the Defence Team class the other day? Something about me being oblivious, if I recall correctly."

"Ah, that. Well, I'm not sure if I should tell you now. You might get cocky again," she teased.

"I'm sure we can find another troll if that happens. Come on, tell me."

"Oh, alright then." Hermione slid over to sit beside him. "You mentioned that you didn't remember all this romance rubbish occurring the first time around, but that's because you weren't looking for it. Honestly, did you even notice any girls before Cho?"

Harry thought hard, but those years were growing ever more distant in his memory. "I… got a Valentine once."

"That one from Ginny in your second year?" Hermione giggled. "I don't think that counts as a date, Harry."

He flushed. "I didn't say it did!"

"Anyway, I think you're also forgetting that I share a dorm with the biggest gossipers in the whole school. All they do is talk about who's dating who and who they want to kiss."

"Is that why you're obsessed with snogging?"

"No. _That_ is because I'm a twenty-six-year-old woman stuck in an underage body, and snogging is the best I can hope for right now."

"Oh." Harry swallowed. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lose the bet.

* * *

><p>The day before Hermione's birthday, Harry skipped their evening dance to work on the spell. Since it was doubtful that teachers would simply ignore a student making a complex spell out in the open, Harry working while sitting on his bed with the curtains drawn. Much like the Cartographical Charm was based on an older spell, Harry used <em>Homenum Revelio<em> as a base for his new detection charm.

By the time he finished optimising it, everyone except Ron was asleep. Harry parted the curtains and dumped the reference books he'd been using on the floor. As he unstrapped his bracers and got ready for bed, Ron rolled over to face him.

"Harry," he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Did… you notice Padma looking at me the other day? In the Defence Team class?"

Harry sighed. Maybe he really hadn't noticed it before. "A bit, yeah." Either that, or his romance with Hermione was forcing his other friends to speed up their development a bit.

Ron's expression was hidden in the shadows. "You don't think she… I dunno… likes me or something, do you?"

"You'd probably have to ask her."

"Right. Sure."

In the morning, Harry woke early to do some final tests on his newly-christened Status Detection Charm. He cast it a few times on the dormitories and after a few tweaks it was working perfectly, giving him a sense of how many people were still asleep in Gryffindor Tower. The spell worked by emitting tiny red orbs from the tip of his wand, each one representing a person in the targeted area. They pulsed every second or so, and the intensity of the pulse and the time between them were used as indicators for how active a person was. In short, it detected heartbeats and displayed them visually.

When Ron woke up, he didn't say anything about Padma, but his unusually quiet demeanour on the way down to breakfast made it clear he hadn't forgotten.

Hermione joined them a little later than usual, wearing a necklace with a little sapphire in the shape of a flame. "My parents sent it," she said happily.

"It suits you, considering those bluebell flames you invented," said Harry.

"I may have given them some nudging in that direction." Hermione smiled as she buttered some toast.

"I finished your present, by the way." He demonstrated the spell a few times.

"I see. You did a reasonably good job on it, too."

"You're too kind," Harry replied flatly.

"Oh blimey, I didn't realise it was your birthday, Hermione," said Ron, dropping his fork.

"Same," Neville added guiltily.

"Don't worry about it," she said brightly. It was cute seeing her so happy.

"Harry?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

He turned to face her. "Yeah, Ginny?"

"Um, Luna and I would like to join the, um, Defence Team class. Do we have to sign up somewhere?" Luna stood behind Ginny, smiling supportively.

"Nope, you can just show up at any of the classes," Harry replied cheerfully. This was one step closer to having the old group back together. "We spend the first half of every lesson going over the basics for any new members, so don't worry about not knowing what to do."

"G-Great. We'll see you there." Ginny must have noticed Ron smirking at her, because she did an about-face and quickly marched back to her chair.

"Uh-oh, the Patil twins are coming over," said Neville in a low voice. "We'd better hide Harry and Ron."

"That's not funny," hissed Ron.

"Harry, Hermione, have you decided on the badges yet?" asked Padma.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who shrugged. "Uh, yeah," he said. "They sound great. Do you need help making them?"

The twins beamed. "We'll take care of it," they said, rushing away.

"I feel like I was just outwitted in some way," Harry mused.

"Girls, mate," Ron said soberly. Neville and Hermione rolled their eyes.

For the rest of the day, Parvati spent almost every class whispering with Lavender Brown and swapping sketches. Harry occasionally looked over at them a tad nervously, but they always hid the designs from sight. At lunch, there was a small cluster of girls from each house except Slytherin chatting excitedly in the corner.

"Hermione, any chance of a little snooping?" he whispered. "I don't want to be caught off-guard by whatever they're up to."

"I've already had a look," she replied. "It's actually a good idea. You'll see later."

"I thought you said you don't use Legilimency on whoever you feel like," said Ron suspiciously.

"Yes, well, I was merely checking to make sure they… that is to say, I only do it if I need to make sure nothing bad is going to happen." Hermione buried herself in a book on her lap, hiding from the narrowed eyes of Ron and Neville. Harry couldn't sense it, but he suspected they were holding their meagre Occlumency shields as tightly as they could.

The reveal came at the end of the day, as the four members of the advance class studied in the common-room. Parvati came over to him alone, surprisingly leaving her small group of Gryffindor girls behind. She seemed to compose herself with a deep breath before speaking.

"Padma and I have done a bit of consulting with other girls in the Defence Team, and we think just having one badge for every member is the wrong way to go about this," she said.

Harry put down his quill and leaned back, folding his arms. "What did you have in mind?"

"We think there should different badges for each skill level, so that members have something to work towards."

"Like military ranks?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, kinda." Parvati shrugged. "It just seemed like a good idea. I don't know, it's your club after all." She was losing her assertiveness with every word.

"I like it," said Harry. "What are the designs for each rank?"

Parvati perked back up, pulling some sheets of parchment from her robes and laying them on the table. "As the founders and members of the 'advance class', you four would wear the original design: a golden capital 'H' on a shield with a sharp red lightning bolt through it," she said, smartly indicating the drawings. They were surprisingly high-quality. "The next level down is for members that you think are good enough to instruct other kids. They get the same as you, but with a silver lightning bolt."

"These are pretty cool," Neville murmured, scanning some of the designs.

"What's the lowest rank?" asked Ron.

"This one, just a plain golden 'H'. We weren't sure how you'd go about deciding when a person can move up to the next rank, so we tried to cover as many as you might need."

Harry scratched his chin. "I think new members won't get a badge until they can cast a stunner and a decent-sized Shield Charm. That'll be the basic requirement we can build on. From there, they'll need to learn to consistently hit a target with their stunners, be able to hold a shield against two stunners at once, _and_ perform a basic Body-Bind Curse. Which is the second lowest rank?"

Hermione scribbled down his words as Parvati pointed it out. "This one. A golden 'H' on a shield."

"I don't want to have too many ranks. It'll just get confusing. So the next one will be between second-lowest and second-highest. To get it, members must be able to break out of a Body-Bind in under five seconds, hold a shield against four stunners at once, and defeat a member of the middle rank three times in a row."

"This is gonna be wicked," Ron grinned.

Parvati was smiling too. "In that case, I'd recommend using this design. A 'H' on a shield with a bronze lightning bolt. We decided to make all the badges similar, because they're from the same club, but with enough difference that members will be able to see what rank other members are."

"I think this is a brilliant idea," said Hermione.

Parvati blinked. "You do?"

"Of course. You're right; it'll give everyone something to strive for. I am surprised that Lavender and those other girls were interested, though. Fighting doesn't seem their style."

"I'd say it was because of Sirius Black, but really, I think it's because the club is so popular after all the stories from last year. It's the big thing right now, you know?" said Parvati.

"So," Hermione straightened her page, "Let's go over this again just to make sure. There are five ranks: the advance class, the instructors, the middle rank, the second-lowest rank, and the lowest rank."

"We need names for those last three," said Ron. "Can't go saying 'rank' all day."

"How about 'Novice' for the lowest, 'Apprentice' for the second-lowest, and 'Duellist' for the middle rank?" said Harry.

"That works." Hermione wrote them down. "Will you need any help making these different badges, Parvati?"

"No, we have it covered." Parvati looked delighted as Hermione made a copy of her notes and passed it over. "We should have them ready by the next class. Thanks!" She darted off to rejoin her friends.

Neville cleared his throat once she was gone. "Speaking of names, I've been thinking about the Hogwarts Defence Team, and us," he said slowly. "Most of the students are just looking to defend themselves, right? But last year, we went out of our way to protect the Stone. We went down through those chambers and confronted Quirrell and Voldemort on our own. I don't think anybody else in the Defence Team would do that."

"What are you getting at?" asked Ron.

Neville reddened a little. "I think we should be the Hogwarts Strike Team."

* * *

><p>Yaxley cast a Warming Charm as a freezing wind tore through him. He wished he could block off the entrance to the cave, or at least put some temperature spells in place, but too much magic would give away his location to the assassins. He'd personally cast the protective spells that had been around his home, but they'd broken through in moments. Magical protection couldn't be trusted. Only cunning would keep him alive now.<p>

He'd always wondered if some bleeding-heart ex-Auror might go rogue and try to clean up the old supporters of the Dark Lord, but the assassins that came for him were far more than bitter veterans with a deathwish. They were fast, powerful, and unforgiving. They were like him.

Shiny had stunned one of them while they were going for his secret files, though, so they could be beaten. The files and the elf were in the far north, now – hopefully laying a false trail for the assassins. Needless to say, he'd copied and hidden the incriminating files and burned the originals. The elf might die, but she would do so in service of the Yaxley family.

Something small scraped across the rocky floor in the darkness behind him. He spun and painted the wall with Greyfire. Dead weeds growing from cracks in the wall burned away instantly, and the stone began to warp.

"_You were always so fond of that spell, Yaxley,"_ hissed a disembodied voice.

Yaxley's eyes widened and he tried to run, but something kept him in place.

"_You would flee from your master?" _the voice said mockingly.

"You… you were defeated," Yaxley said breathlessly.

"_But not destroyed."_

Something pressed against Yaxley's mind, and he could not resist any more than the night could resist dawn.

"How did you find me?" he whispered.

"_It is a thing of chance that we should encounter one another tonight. Fortune, it seems, has decided to favour us. I see your troubles, Yaxley… you are too weak to defend yourself from assassins, so you flee and hide in barren places, hoping they do not find you."_

"I-I am not… weak."

"_Liar," _hissed the voice. _"I see your fear. But I am merciful, and so generous to those who follow me… I can grant you the power to stand against any who threaten you."_

Yaxley licked his lips. If this being truly was the Dark Lord…

"What is the price?"

"_You will share your form with me. It is not painful, and I have done so before."_ Something grey and shrivelled wriggled out of the darkness. Yaxley realised it was a dying snake.

"And you will give me the strength to defeat my enemies?" Yaxley's mind raced; with the Dark Lord's power, the assassins would be simple to dispose of – but beyond that, there was so much more he could accomplish… so many wrongs that could be righted…

"_And more,"_ whispered the Dark Lord.

Yaxley made his decision.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So much stuff is going down this year! In case you were wondering, I'm always two chapters ahead of the latest one on here. I like to keep a buffer in case I get writer's block or something, but lately I've been writing chapter after chapter like a madman!**

**Also, still looking for experienced proofreaders.**


End file.
